A Dragon's Demons
by BronzeWolf336
Summary: Ásleif, the Dragonborn, just wants her torments to end. After the death of her brother, who was her best friend, life has been beyond difficult and out of her control. When Death takes a chance to grant her wish, the Divines decide "not yet" and intervene. Middle-Earth and the Fellowship need her help as much as she needs theirs.
1. Chapter 1

The moment I realized that I was a rat in a trap, it was already too late.

 _You stupid women, Ásleif_. _How could you have allowed this to happen?_

About a dozen or so Silverhand surrounded me in the front and the back. I could easily count their heads from atop my blue roan, who tossed his head and turned 360s on the spot, rolling his eyes and snorting in alarm, tail thrashing behind him. "Easy, Gunnolf, easy." I whispered to the stallion, but to no effect. He could feel the apprehension rolling off of me in waves.

I had been heading home to Jorrvaskr from the Throat of the World after a conference with Paarthurnax. Even after the defeat of Alduin, my soul was not at rest and day to day life was becoming more and more taxing on my mind and body. My past as well as the present haunted me at all hours. Shame. Hurt. Sorrow. Regret. I constantly felt that living at this point was more than it was worth. I had asked the old dov for guidance.

Rather than take my usual road back to Whiterun that ran round the northern side of the Monahven, I had decided to take the scenic route through the mountain pass to the south, and head up to Whiterun from the Helgan road instead. My senses were dulled by the war-zone that was my head and I hadn't realized till it was too late that Gunnolf and I were surrounded by the Kin-Killers.

"We've been waiting for you, Companion. Our trackers have been following you for some time, and you came right to us, like the dog that you are." A tall orc Silverhand with a two handed silver sword pulled my conscience out of the black pit that my mind had become. He was wrapped in a hide that had deep, black coarse fur. A quick intake of his scent on the wind told me it was werewolf. In fact, all their scents were so strong on the wind that I was deeply disturbed that I hadn't smelled them before being trapped in the pass.

 _You're losing yourself, Dovahkiin, you stupid wolf._

As I continued berating myself in my head, I drew my Skyforge steel sword from its scabbard strapped to Gunnolf's saddle. When he heard the ring of metal, the stallion squared up, awaiting my command. The small round shield that also hung from his saddle was quickly in my left hand. As an instinctive reflex, I looked about me for my companion, but with a sickening clench of my heart, I remembered that I was alone.

Always alone.

Forcing myself to focus, I growled lowly in my chest. "Who are you, scum, to hunt me like an animal when you should turn to yourselves? Though it would bring me great pleasure and satisfaction, save me the trouble of spilling your foul blood and slit your own throats while you have the chance, _Kin-Killer_." I spat the last word out with as much venom as I could. The odds were stacked against me.

Laughter rang out amongst the silver-armed company. Chills ran like ice down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. I suddenly wished I hadn't forsaken my heavier armor that was currently in the saddle bags for lighter leathers that served for quicker travel. "Oh, this should be fun, a cocky she-wolf with no pack in sight. When we are done disposing of your wretched life, we'll go ahead and cut the head off the serpent. Heard your mead hall is nice and cozy this time of year. Perhaps we'll all pop in for a drink, eh lads?"

Shouts of agreement rose up from the group. Spinning my sword in my hand, I fought the anxiety building up inside me. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Driving my spurs into Gunnolf's flank, he sprang forward off his hind legs. Luckily, the host of scum around me weren't anticipating such a forward charge, and were caught off guard. This bought me a few seconds of precious time to gain the upper hand. Slashing down with my sword, I clove the orc's head in two like a hot knife through butter, for he wore no helmet. Blood and bone shot out, coating anyone in the vicinity. The metallic smell encouraged the Wolf and the dovah within me, and my senses sharpened as my own blood began to pump with renewed vigor. _Left_. I turned my steed sharply round and blocked an incoming sword attack with my shield. The wielder stumbled back. Turning my head to the right, I let the power that was my soul well up at will.

" _FUS!"_

The Shout pushed three assailants onto their rumps, one rolling back from the force and sweeping a fourths legs from underneath him, sending him to join his fellows on the ground. On reflex, Gunnolf kicked out a hind leg, catching one of the fallen fighters square in the face. A sickening cracking and crunching sounded out and blood splattered all over the ground. A wave of excitement flooded through my body at the sight of the gory mess that was now the dead Silverhand's face.

 _Well done, my sweet,_ I praised silently.

Unfortunately, the rest recovered their surprise, and the upper-hand was lost. They closed in around us, weapons up and screaming taunts. I threw a fire ball at an axe-man that decided to break ranks. He fell back, but another quickly took his place, followed by a swordsman from the other side. Moving Gunnolf's hind quarters away, I struck out at the axe-man, who parried my blow. I faked left and slashed right, moving his guard over and opening his neck from ear to collarbone. Bringing Gunnolf round again, I kicked out my foot, catching the swordsman in the face. His sword came out, the tip cutting a gash into my left thigh. Pain roared up my leg into the rest of my body, and the Wolf howled in pain along with me, which I voiced for both of us through my own mouth.

"AGGGHHHHH!"

I could feel the flesh burning and blistering from the contact with the silver blade. An arrow from an unseen archer jerked me backwards in the saddle as the missile made contact with me chest, the leather I wore doing little to slow it down but enough to stop my life from ending. Fire burned up inside my chest and the silver arrow head burrowed deep in my upper left breast.

Struggling to draw breath without screaming or howling, I lashed out with sword and shield, turning Gunnolf round and round. My cloak whipped around me as I sent more flames with a shout, luckily igniting the furs of two of my assailants. They flailed about, crying out and trying desperately to shed themselves of their flaming garments. The scent of burning flesh permeated through the air. One managed to rid himself of the death trap, however his companion was not so fortunate. She desperately fell to the snow to try and smother the flames that were consuming her. Agonizing screams pierced the air, ringing off the rocky walls of the pass. Her flesh bubbled and blistered till she finally lay still, a blackened and charred mess upon the pure snow.

My satisfaction at her horrific demise was cut short by another arrow, this one in my left shoulder. The archer was aiming desperately for my heart, but failing at his set task. Breaking the shafts of the arrows off as fast and gently as possible, I bit back more howls of agony and rage. Conjuring ice up in my right palm around my sword hilt, I threw a well-aimed ice spear at my nearest opponent, driving it through his chest. His eyes bulged at the pressure that was now in his chest, coughing up blood as his body gave one last effort to clear the obstruction before he keeled over dead.

Even with the success of my kills, there was no use. I was taking in silver like it was the new fashion in the Imperial City, and it was boiling the blood in my veins. Turning Gunnolf's head back up the pass, I pulled as much air into my lungs as I could in my current state. Standing unsteadily up in the stirrups, I Shouted:

"FUS RO DAH!"

Focusing my voice over the stallion's head, the wall of force blasted the Silverhand that stood in my way back from the path. Desperately, I kicked my mount forward, and he took off, having no qualms with leaving our adversaries behind in the blood and snow. He flew past the fallen warriors and back up through the pass. So relieved was I to have thought us now safe, I almost missed the lone archer upon an icy rock. His bow was strung and nocked with a gleaming silver arrow pointed at my head. The world seemed to slow as I made eye contact with the marksman. Even above the wind and the pounding of Gunnolf's hooves, I heard the bow string twang deafening loud as the arrow was released.

 _This is the end, then. This is how my demons are finally slain: through my own death._

A bright flash of light engulfed me and my ever faithful mount, and we were thrown forward into blinding white surroundings.

* * *

 _Hello! This is the first chapter of the second story I am publishing here. This is MUCH darker then my first little Brynjolf romance story, and will be much much longer and developed. Just a quick note, Asleif's story and background may seem a bit confusing at first but I promise things will become clearer as the story progresses. Another note, Kin-Killers is just another name I made up for the Silverhand. Seems fitting for a werewolf to call them that. As always, review and please excuse any grammar or spelling errors._


	2. Chapter 2

Neither Gunnolf nor I could see through the blinding white that surrounded us. The blue roan stallion stumbled and almost lost his footing as the light receded from around us, and a jolt was sent up through the horse's body and the saddle as his hooves hit flat, solid ground.

Mountainous rock, snow, and ice no longer were our surroundings, rather a rolling grasslands with spars trees and pockets of wood and rock. We appeared to be at its border, heading out amongst the plains with a forest at our backs. Reflexively, I jerked up hard on the reins. Gunnolf slammed his heals into the dirt and reared up high, tucking his forelegs under himself in protest at the harsh command.

 _Where in Oblivion-?_

From my now mostly still position, for Gunnolf was stamping and shuffling his feet and throwing his head at our new surroundings, I surveyed the area. At the second I took to breathe, pain flooded my body like fire, adrenalin starting to leave my system. The sun above was boiling hot, and I burned under my winter-in-Skyrim apparel, even with a light breeze that smelt like Autumn. I pushed the pain aside with horrific difficulty to the back of my mind, shushing the Wolf within so I could listen. On the wind the sound of a river pricked my ears, though it was some distance off, two or three miles at the most. My head swam, and my vision was becoming distorted as if I had consumed too much alcohol. Fighting against it, I warred with myself on what to do next, till multiple blood chilling, ear piercing screeches split the air like a knife.

I wasn't able to stop a cry from passing my lips. Gunnolf squealed in alarm, and turned round left away from the sounds. I quickly caught him from bolting out onto the plains, and instead fought him to turn right and ride to the crest of the hill we stood upon. Once there, I was able to look down upon more of the land at which we had appeared.

The rolling plains continued over the crest, and in the distance the grey-blue line of a river could be seen cutting through the land. Nine black figures on black steeds rode hard out across the grass and stones, not too far ahead from where Gunnolf and I stood on the hill.

 _Are they the cause of those hideous screams?_

Looking harder against the glaring sun, I noticed a gleam of white at the head of the host of riders. Immediately I knew what I was witnessing, having taken part in one many times.

"It's a chase, Gunnolf." I spoke aloud to the stallion. A commotion snapped my attention farther right down the hill to the line of trees. Two tall figures and three smaller ones appeared, fruitlessly heading in the direction of the chase. I knew immediately, with no explanation of how, that the nine riders could not be allowed to catch their quarry.

Quickly, I strapped my shield back to the saddle, painfully rolling the arrowhead in my shoulder in the process, and sheathed my sword. With spurs jabbed into his flank, Gunnolf reluctantly leapt down the hill. I didn't head straight for the path of the rider's; I would gain no ground that way. Instead I took a path that would have me meeting them at an angle from the left. Turning my head, I looked back for a brief moment towards the party at the border of the wood as I passed them from farther down the tree line. I could smell their fear and apprehension. Turning back forward I pushed the building pain and discomfort back again, focusing on the chase. Adrenalin began to flood my system again, and despite the pain, the Wolf in me became excited.

 _The hunters were about to become the hunted._

Leaning forward in the saddle and taking some of my weight out of it and putting more in the stirrups, I gave Gunnolf a little more rein to extend his neck. He moved from a canter to a gallop, his hooves hitting the ground hard. The figures were still far ahead of us, and I urged Gunnolf faster still. The wind tore at my cloak and whipped Gunnolf's long black mane into my face; still I pressed him harder. We hadn't ridden this hard and fast in years.

I pressed my spurs into his sides again, and gave more rein to indicate that I wanted him to push his limits. Gunnolf gave in, sensing my urgency and willingness, he put the winds to shame. The rhythmic count of his gallop became an indistinguishable pounding of hooves on the ground as he pushed his body into a run. Head and neck extended forward and legs reaching as far as physically possible, we became a grey, black, and green blur on the landscape.

Flying as if on the wind, the riders in black began to grow larger on our right, as did the river in front of us. Almost drawing level with them, I directed Gunnolf with my left leg to carry to the right so we were behind the party. I now was able to get a good look at what I was hunting. All nine had dirty, pitch black robes with steeds to match, and hoods pulled up over their heads while hunched forward in their saddles. I finally came up next to the rider at the rear of the group, who turned his hooded head to face me.

An over-whelming sense of fear gripped at my heart. I could see nothing under the hood: no eyes, no shadow of a face, but still I felt as if the rider was staring into my very soul. It screeched out a high pitched note, and the other eight responded.

Tearing my eyes away for the abyss under its hood, I mentally guarded myself and pushed Gunnolf forward again. Ahead I could see the lead rider pulling up next to the bright white stallion, who seemed to be glowing against the contrasting darkness of its pursuer. A small figure garbed in a green cloak was huddled in the saddle. An over whelming urge to protect this rider over took the darkness that plagued my mind only seconds before. Rage boiled up inside of me as the black rider reached a black steel gauntleted hand out to the figure on the white horse.

Fire was in my sword hand before I could think, and I sent a ball of flame that landed right next to the lead rider. Its horse screamed and pulled up and away, galloping wide of the white horse. The river was not half a mile away.

 _Get past the river, stallion, that's all you have to do._

Instinct told me they would be safe once they forded the river. I sent another blaze of fire at the rider next to me. It missed, but detoured the rider away nonetheless. The rumbling of water grew nearer, and the splashing of a large creature pushing through it. Suddenly, like carrion birds to a battle field, I was surrounded by all nine riders on all sides. Gunnolf pulled up harshly, almost head-butting me in the face with the top of his head. They circled us wildly, each one drawing long swords of crude, black steel. The stallion under my saddle began to turn wildly around, and didn't cease even when I drew my own long sword from my back; a blade to match the short sword on the saddle. It, too, was forged of Skyforge steel, and shown in the sun.

They continued to circle, screeching and bellowing the whole while, till one, the one whom I had first thrown fire at, pulled up and spoke. "Who are you to defy us our Master's quarry?" Its voice was steel on stone, and my ears hurt to hear it. The voice sounded distant, like a scream in a wind storm, yet also crushingly heavy and close, as if it were in my head. Fighting to keep my voice steady, I replied, "I know not what you are, foul creature, and I care not who your Master is. Cease your chase, and follow no more!"

All nine cried out angrily and closed in and I raised my sword above my head, giving a battle cry of my own. I parried the first blow, striking out in an arch to slice the rider closest to my right in the shoulder. Spinning Gunnolf around and around, I kept him moving for fear of us becoming sitting ducks in a sea of slaughter fish. The black horses closed in even closer, and I did more blocking than serving blows. It was as if I was striking at empty robes.

" _FUS!"_ I Shouted, gaining more room to make a break for the river. As a gap was made in the wall of riders, one stepped up, blocking my way. Knowing that my blade would probably do no harm to the rider, I brought Gunnolf side by side with the mount. Leaning back in the saddle, I swung my sword down on one of the black steed's hocks, severing the thick tendon just about the joint. The horse screamed in pain, and fell back onto its haunches, front hooves buffeting the air in an attempt to stay upright and balanced. The cloaked rider was thrown from its back, emitting a scream of its own as it hit the ground, almost being crushed by the body of its falling mount. I spared a glance over to the far bank to see the white stallion and his small rider atop the hill just up the bank. That was a mistake though. Another black rider's sword came round in a passing blow, cutting easily through wool, leather, and linen, all the way into the flesh of my side. I yelled as it burned almost as much as a silver blade. Fresher blood soaked quickly through my armor and clothing, leaching down the fabric of my trousers and streaming down Gunnolf's side. Mustering up my strength, I practically screamed:

" _FEIM ZII GRON!"_

A feeling of weightlessness came over me and I pushed through the wall of black cloaks and steel, directing Gunnolf for the river. Screams of fury rose up around me and behind me as attacks passed through me harmlessly. They were quickly left behind as foaming waters rose up around my mounts hooves. We rose up the opposite shore as the Shout faded, and the weight of the world came crashing back down. I could have cried at the sound of horses moving through water. Turning around weakly in the saddle, the eight riders that still stood were fording the river. The one who had been ungracefully dismounted was hunched on the ground, attempting to regain its footing, using its fallen mount as support. The horse upon the ground keened and wailed out in pain, unable to stand.

Just before the riders in the river reached the far bank, the water rose up from around their feet, flowing back up stream. Every head turned to look upon a wall of water, with the foam rolling and crashing forward in the shapes of great white horses. The riders in the river-bed turned down stream and fled the rumbling waves of water, which came barreling down upon them before they had gotten more than a few paces.

The water in the river settled. The riders did not reappear.

I hunched over the pommel of my saddle in relief. _They are gone._

The rider still on the shore gave out a hideous screech of anger and defeat, then became nothing more than a pile of black robes and armor next to the felled horse. The two tall figures from the forest suddenly appeared running up to the opposite bank I had just come from. Another figure garbed in grey robes came from the brush and trees on the side of the bank I was on, calling out across the river as the two forded it. The waters stayed quiet as they waded through. The tall grey figure from the brush went straight to the white stallion and its small rider. I was still quite close to the river bank, and as the two figures made it across, one clad in blue and grey and gold, the other in dark green, they moved to approach me on Gunnolf. Raising my sword in warning, my blade suddenly clattered to the ground as pain shot through my body with renewed vigor.

There was no pushing it down this time.

The Wolf howled and whined out in anguish, I would only allow myself to whimper in the presence of these strangers. The two made to approach again, speaking in soft but urgent tones. Gunnolf backed off in alarm, though from no direction from me. My ears could not hear what they were saying, only that they were speaking. My vision swam and I fought to stay upright in the saddle with Gunnolf's turning and baulking. I tried as best I could to soothe him, but I had no strength left for any words or spells. The figure in dark green manage to catch Gunnolf's bridle and hold him,

Desperately I tried to focus on the man's face, but my vision was too blurry. I was starting to feel a mixture of hot and cold. My blood was boiling from the silver but my skin was cold and clammy from blood loss. There was more commotion around me as riders came from the path that was followed after the ford at the river.

Someone was speaking to me. I tried to listen but I couldn't make out any words. Gunnolf started to move forward again as two of the riders on bay mounts flanked him on either side. The whole group began to move with steady speed back up the path away from the river. I felt myself slipping and I didn't have the strength to catch myself. Perhaps falling off my horse after a chase worth singing about wasn't a bad way to die.

I welcomed it, actually. Then the pain of everything would finally end.

I was not so lucky. A strong hand shot out of somewhere and steadied me. It did not relieve itself of me, but kept ahold so that I was not at risk of falling again.

Through blurred vision and sound, the path beneath our horse's hooves became soft beds of grass, then neat patterns of stone. The air became refreshingly chill, and sounds of a great waterfall echoed around the rocky walls of a gorge we had just ridden through.

My consciousness was fading fast, and black rings played on the edge of my vision. Each breath was harder to draw than the last, and everything was slowly becoming wonderfully numb. _Perhaps I will pass to Sovngarde on this day after all. It is a shame I will never find out more about where I am._

The riders split off into a larger space. I could hear even more commotion around me, although in my ears it was distant. Horns blew from somewhere, and the sounds of many people also could be vaguely heard.

The next thing I knew and the last thing of the immediate future that I remember was crying out as I was gently slid from Gunnolf's back.

* * *

 _You have no idea how long this took to type! It was fun though, I had such a specific picture in my head of how I wanted it to look and feel, and I think I did it all right. Just an FYI, the story will be following the LOTR books, only occasionally having movie references. Since this is a crossover category that has very few stories in it, I know it will not be getting a lot of traffic, so if you are one of the few who does find it, pleeeeaaaaase review!_


	3. Chapter 3

"Wake up, Áskell! Papa is going to Whiterun today and said we can go with him."

I frowned as the human-shaped lump under the pile of blankets and furs rolled over with a groan.

"Let me sleep, Ásleif, we've been to Whiterun plenty of times." he protested. Climbing onto the bed, I pulled the covers off of my twin brother, "Yes, but this time he has business with the Companions, we get to see the mead hall of Jorrvaskr up close!" I declared loudly and excitedly. Áskell jumped up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not a bit of sleep in his now alert face. "Why didn't you say that first? Maybe we will get meet some of the warriors!"

We now scrambled over each other to rush for the wardrobe. Getting dressed as quickly as possible, both of us in tunics and breaches with soft leather boots, we fought to push past each other to get through the curtain-covered door-way to the main room of the house. Stumbling to the table, Áskell and I sat in the same high backed chair. I shoved him off and onto the floor easily, but he reached up and pulled me down with him. Rolling around on the floor in a mock hand to hand fight, pulling hair and biting and punching, we were suddenly stopped when two large hands grabbed us both and pulled us apart, depositing us both on one of the benches at the table. "Now, now, you two haven't even had breakfast yet and you're already fighting each other for dominance."

I looked up at our father as he sat down in the high backed chair. "We are training to be Companions, papa. We get to see them today, don't we?" I asked the tall Nord while stuffing bread and cheese into my mouth. He laughed, "You seemed to be lacking the proper weaponry to be training, and I'm sure you will see some of the warriors today. Are you coming with us Áskell?" My brother almost chocked in his hastiness to swallow his food. "Of course!"

In no time at all, we were on our way to the trading hub of Skyrim. Half an hour of walking found us inside the walls of Whiterun, heading up from the Plains District to the Wind District. The great mead hall of Jorrvaskr stood upon its hill, tall and proud in the mid-morning sun.

"Thorbjorn!" a Nord in armor called out to our father as we climb the steps from the doors of the hall. He was tall, like most Nords, and had greying brown hair. "Well met, Harbinger." Thorbjorn replied. They grasped forearms in greeting. The Harbinger turned to my brother and me, "You must be the twins, Áskell and Ásleif. I am Kodlak." We said a shy hello, and Kodlak carried on, "We have our own twins here, Farkas and Vilkas. They shouldn't be too much older than you two. They are out back if you get bored of fallowing your old man around."

After rolling his eyes, our father shooed us off to go find the Companion twins. "We met the Harbinger, Áskell, and he knew our names!" I whispered to my brother, though there was really no need. He was just as excited as I was. We made our way round to the back of the Hall, where the area opened up into a training ground. Two boys, one taller than the other, were sparring with wooden swords. They noticed us approaching and ceased there fighting. "Who are you?" the shorter one began. They both had dark hair and cool blue eyes, and the same facial structure, although the taller one was more muscular then the other, and had a kinder look to him. "Are you Farkas and Vilkas?" Áskell asked shyly. The shorter one's eyes narrowed, "I am Vilkas, and this is Farkas." The one noted as Farkas smiled broadly and gave a little wave. "I'm Ásleif and this is my brother, Áskell. The Harbinger said that we would be able to find you back here." My voice was small compared to his. Though not as deep as an adults' voice, his was close to being so.

Vilkas snorted, turning to his brother, "Grab two more swords." Farkas trotted off happily to the rack of weapons on the side, bringing back two more swords. "How old are you?" he asked curiously. Áskell answered this time, "We turned eleven in Last Seed. You?"

Vilkas smirked, but Farkas threw him a look and answered, "We're fifteen." He gave his sword a few swings. "Have either of you done sword play before?" Áskell and I exchanged looks, "A little, but nothing compared to what the Companion's do." The bigger twin laughed, "We're not Companions, not yet at least. Our father was a Companion before he died, so Kodlak took us in like we were his own." He seemed unfazed by the mention of his deceased father, but Vilkas took on a brooding look.

Farkas showed us how to stand properly in a fighting stance, then basic guards and attacks. Vilkas just watched us from where he was leaning against a wall. It was two against one, but Farkas had no problem against us. After blocking a clumsy swing to his leg, he threw a counter-attack that clipped me lightly on the left shoulder. I stumbled a little, but managed to regained my footing before falling on my rump. "I'm sorry!" Farkas exclaimed, a look of concern on his face, "did I hurt you?"

Giggling, I shook my head. He had looked scary at first with his height, piercing blue eyes, and intense, very Nord features, but I could tell there wasn't anything unkind about him at all: he was just a big puppy dog. "I'm fine, your sword barely touched me. I should have blocked it any way." I blushed as he smiled broadly. "That's good, don't want to wound you on your first day of training!"

As all three of us squared up again, Áskell and I a little awkwardly, my shoulder started to sting. I winced and rolled the joint, but the discomfort grew into a dull pain that burned down to the bones. I dropped my sword and pressed my fingers to pained area, where Farkas' sword had barely touched. Looking back at my twin and the other, I made to call out to them. They hadn't noticed I wasn't joining in the fight. The pain flared up again and I groaned. Sounds became dulled and it was as if time slowed just a little. I tried to move but found that my limbs would not listen. Again I tried to call out, but no sound came from my throat.

My shoulder began to really hurt, and I began to panic. I was falling backwards, and could do nothing to stop myself…...

I never hit the ground, in fact, I hadn't moved at all. I awoke with a sharp gasp that wracked my body with a dull pain that began at my shoulder and moved through my chest and across my torso. My bleary eyes blinked rapidly, taking in my surroundings.

They were unfamiliar. The comfortable bed that I lay on was surrounded by white wood panel walls, with a high arching, very elegant window adorning one wall, and an equally as impressive door on the opposite wall. The furniture looked as if it had been made right from living branches of a tree that was the same white hue as the walls. Deep blue silk curtains fluttered in a breeze that blew in through the window. The first thing my brain tried to do was throw my body into a panic attack. My heart rate spiked and I began to breathe hard and fast. Memories suddenly came rushing back. The Silverhand ambush, the flash of light and the change of lands, the black riders, the chase, the small rider on a white stallion, all the riders after fording the river. I had passed out, my wounds were many and sever. I suddenly felt sick.

 _You're alive, calm yourself, you're alive. If you were going to be killed, you would be dead already and not in a clean, open room such as this. Breathe._

I counted my breaths till my heart rate returned to normal and the rolling of my stomach ceased, for the most part. Sitting up slowly, I took in my current state. No longer covered in blood and dirt, so someone had bathed me. I wore a thin shift that covered most of my body down to mid-calf. Throwing back the covers of the bed, I pulled the shift up over my head and examined my body.

Most of my torso was wrapped in clean white bandages. Pealing back the bottom edge of the wrapping on my abdomen, I could feel small, neat stitches where the riders blade had cut through my armor like a hot knife through butter. The cut on my thigh from the silver blade had also been stitched up, though the edges were still blistered from the effects of the cursed metal reacting with my blood. Feeling through the bandages on my shoulder and chest, I guessed the arrow wounds were in much the same state.

In my mind, I could feel that the Wolf was tired. She was quietly urging me to go back to sleep to continue healing, but I ignored her and she went quiet in the corner of my mind.

My ears suddenly picked up a sound on the other side of the door, the sound of feet ever so quietly making their way down the hall way. Two pairs, in fact, if I heard correctly. Scrambling to get the shift back on, I had just finished straightening it when the door opened without a sound.

An elf, of the likes I had never seen before, stood in the door way. He had long raven hair that reached the middle of his back that was twirled and braided, and wore silver-blue robes with a circlet to match. His arching brows gave him the look of someone who was in deep contemplation. Like all elves, his face was angular with high cheek bones and hair line. However, unlike the elves I was used to seeing, he had a certain calm, handsome, and collective look and air about him. The elf bowed his head in greeting.

"You are awake, that is good. With the injuries you have sustained, we were worried you may not make it." He gave a forward hand gesture, asking permission to enter the room. Looking over his shoulder, I saw another elf, a female, standing behind him. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, the two elves didn't smell off, and the air in the room was clean, although there was the stale scent of blood, which I could identify as my own. Narrowing my eyes for a moment, I nodded my permission.

As they entered, I noticed they looked strikingly similar, even for elves. _Relatives maybe?_ The she-elf moved gracefully across the room, and sat by the window. She had a neutral look but a curious glint in her eyes. Her black hair was loose and now fluttered with the silk curtains in the light breeze. The other elf whom had spoken at the door pulled up a chair at the bedside, moving it so I could face him without craning my neck. After he had sat down, I studied him. He sat relaxed, body language saying it was alright for me to do the same. Despite him being a stranger, and an elf, I did not feel threatened. The Wolf was up and attentive now, though she did not growl, but seemed rather curious, as was I.

Before I could decide how to break the silence, the elf spoke. "I suppose we could start a conversation with introductions. I am Lord Elrond Peredhil, and this is my daughter, Arwen." The Lord motioned to the she-elf at the window. _Ah, yes. A father-daughter relation. That explains the similarities._ She inclined her head. Lord Elrond turned back to me. "I am sure you have questions, as do I, but may we have your name?"

 _I suppose it is only fair, considering you haven't killed me._

My mind was reeling with so many conflicting emotions and memories that it was difficult to keep my voice steady, and my throat was dry from disuse. "I am Ásleif Wolfborn." I would have said more but he HAD only asked my name. His brow furrowed a little. My head snapped to the she-elf, who had gotten up from her seat without a sound. From a pitcher on the vanity, she poured a clear liquid into a cup. She came to the bed side and offered it to me. Gingerly, I took it, not breaking eye contact with her stormy blue eyes. I was impressed that she did not look away or flinch; most people would have. Giving it a tentative sniff, the liquid in the cup was nothing but water with a hint of lavender. Sipping it slowly, I turned my attention back to the Lord, while the she-elf, Arwen, went to sit back at the window. With a more lubricated throat, I asked, "If I am permitted, Lord Elrond Peredhil, I would like to know where I am." My voice was low and quiet, but still my words were clear.

The Lord seemed to be thinking very deeply, but he answered. "You are in Imladris, or Rivendell, in the Common Tongue. It has many other names, but those will suffice. This is my house, and it is I who healed you." He stood from his chair and went to a wash basin on a stand that was on one side of the room, while saying, "you were ushered here by a small band of my people whom I had sent out to escort a small group of travelers. You crossed paths with them at the Ford of the Bruinen." He took a small bundle from the basin no bigger than my hand, and came back to the chair at my bedside. "You had multiple wounds and almost bled-out at my doorstep." He placed the bundle on the bed, which was something wrapped in red stained linen. "I extracted these from your shoulder and chest. They do not show traces of poison; however, your body was reacting alarmingly strange. The flesh was blistering as if burned."

Having reached out to unfold the linen, I snatched my hand back quickly. Noticing the reaction, the elf's brow furrowed further (if that was possible) and unfolded the piece of cloth himself. Two arrow heads sat neatly in the center. Their edges were crudely jagged, and the top portion that would fit around the shaft of the arrow was barbed. Both were still red with dried blood, though it had showed signs of having bubbled when fresh.

"They are plated with silver, my Lord Elrond. Silver burns my flesh like fire and boils my blood like water in a hot spring." I found myself providing an explanation while absentmindedly tracing a finger gingerly around the edge of the linen. "Where is Imladris, I do not recall ever hearing of it before." I brought my eyes up to meet is cool grey ones. The elf folded the arrowheads back up and set them on the table at the bedside. "While you are in my house, you are also in Arda, or Middle-Earth. I am lead to believe you have never heard of Middle-Earth. Tell me then where you hail from, and why does silver affect you so."

My head was hurting from all this information. All these names were so strange and held no meaning to me. "I am from the province of Skyrim, which is in Tamriel." I hesitated for a moment. Few people outside of the Circle knew of the Wolfblood, and most who did learn that secret did not act in a pleasant manner. Despite this, I kept talking. "I am a werewolf; I can take on the form of a mighty hunter when I so choose." I quickly added, "but do not think I am savage like some, my Wolf and I are one in mind as well as body. Some choose to fight their beasts for control, while others who are weak are overcome by theirs. I am fortunate to have a Wolf spirit that can get along with my soul. We work together as a team." The Wolf was wagging her tail in confirmation in my mind.

The elf rubbed a hand across his face. "There is a breed of man who live mostly over the mountains in the east, called Skin-Changers. They can take on the form of a bear. This seems similar." I nodded, "Yes, though we are not a breed, per say. The Blood cannot be passed from parent to child, only as a chance accident upon a rogue werewolf in the wilds or as a gift." I began to explain about the Companions, and the Circle, as well as the Silverhand. "I was heading back to Whiterun from visiting a…friend, when I was trapped in the mountain pass by a larger band of the scum. I was brought here seconds after breaking their line for an escape." I paused for a moment, mulling over the memory, when-

"The Companions! They are in danger! I couldn't kill all of the Silverhand, there were too many." The Wolf started pacing, whining lowly. I was on the verge of panicking, "they said once they were finished with me, they were going to attack Jorrvaskr. I have to get back and warn them, to help defend the Hall!" Trying to sit up, the muscles in my side coiled and protested, preventing me from moving effectively. Elrond was at my side in a second, as was Arwen. "You cannot travel or fight in your current state. And I must tell you that I do not believe there is a way to get back to Skyrim."

I struggled lamely to pull away from both of the elves. "I have to get back," I managed to choke out around the lump forming in my throat, "I cannot stay here. The Kin-killers could wound or kill any of my Shield-siblings if caught unprepared for an attack! Jorrvaskr's doors are always open, anyone can get in!" The tall elf sat back as his daughter took both my hands in hers. I attempted to push her away, but she had a surprisingly strong grip. "Ásleif," she said, her voice was light but had an odd deep tone to it. "you must have faith that the others can stand without you. They are great warriors, you say, so trust them to be able to do what they do best. You are still recovering, and much too far away from your home."

Tears had gathered in my eyes at the truth of her words, though I blinked them away. She was correct, I could do nothing. Whenever I was needed most, I could never do anything. I nodded dumbly, my arms going slack. Shame swept over me for my weakness of lowering my guard. I did not know these elves, and had next to no idea where I was and had let my emotions get in the way. My face suddenly formed its usual mask and I blurted out. "What of the riders in black, the ones at the Ford. And the small rider on the white stallion?"

Looking up at the Lord, I noted his slightly surprised yet concerned face at the sudden change of subject. "The rider is recovering; he too was injured a few days before you appeared. He has not yet awakened. The wound he received in his shoulder was from a cursed blade of one of the Riders. Though you were also wounded by one of their blades, it was inferior weapon." He gave me a moment to process this, though I broke the short silence, "They were not man or mer, were they, these riders." It wasn't a question, but a statement. The dark-haired elf frowned, "No, they were not, or are not I should say, for they yet are in this world. Their steeds drowned in the river, but the Riders fled back to their Master." He explained how they were once kings of men, but were tricked by the Dark Lord Sauron with Rings of Power, and one by one were enslaved. Sauron had been defeated, but now he had returned, as had his servants, the Nazgûl, as the Black Riders were named. Lord Elrond also went on about a Ring that contained the rest of his power, and if he ever got ahold of it, it would mean the end of the Age and the destruction of the world.

 _Well doesn't that sound familiar? Power hungry loons who want to destroy the world._ I though bitterly.

Turned out that the small rider was a creature called a Hobbit, not much different from a man, only shorter. "His name is Frodo Baggins, and he carries this One Ring of Power. I am telling you this because you quite possibly prevented the Ring from falling into the hands of the enemy. By pursuing the Nine, you may have given Frodo enough time to cross the river before they could capture him. You put yourself in mortal danger without knowing it."

Looking down at my hands, I twisted a gold ruby ring that was on my right hand, "I can't explain it. At the edge of the forest I saw them, and I knew I had to do something. Something in my mind told me to make chase, and I listened to it. If doing so helped keep evil at bay, even at the expense of my left side, I am glad that I did." I suddenly felt mentally drained, more so then usual. So much had happened and I almost didn't have enough energy to care all that much. Something did catch my attention however. "When I told you my name, Lord Elrond, both of you showed a certain level of surprise." I began. This made both of their pointed ears prick up visibly. "Why is that? And you have not asked my anything of Skyrim, although it seems it is on a different plain from this world." I looked up to meet the elf's steady grey eyes, his brows twisted in thought. My gaze did not falter and neither did his. Again, I was impressed, few could meet my eyes and hold it. My respect for the elf grew. "You have heard of my world, haven't you?"

There was a slightly stressed pause, till it was ended by the elf Lord. "Yes, I have heard of Skyrim, and of Tamriel. Not only have heard of it but I have quite a fair amount of knowledge of your world." Although my body ached, I sat up straighter, "How is this possible? I have never heard of Middle-Earth yet you know of where I am from." I gave him a glare that would make even Vilkas behave himself. The elf did not waiver. "I know everything that I do from another who has come here from your world, many many years ago by mortal standards. They are both still here." I frowned at the use of the phrase 'mortal standards', but my face was ignored. Lord Elrond stood from his chair. "Under normal circumstances I would not have you leave your bed till you had recovered fully, however I do not believe I will be able to convince you to stay put. You are healing almost twice as fast as a normal human would, no doubt thanks to your Wolf Blood." He now stood by the door, but turned back. "Arwen has requested to help you till you have fully recovered, if you would allow her. If you feel up to it, she will take you to speak with the others from your world. I go to them now, in fact." A small smile appeared on his face, the first I had seen. "They are very curious about you, as is the whole of Rivendell."

As he opened the door to leave, adding, "and do not worry about your horse, he is in good health, although he is giving the stable-hands a very hard time. He tried to follow us up the steps as we brought you into the hall. He was not happy to be separated from you. You should see him as well, so he knows you are alright." Lord Elrond closed the door and Arwen helped me off the bed. I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. _Oh, Gunnolf, always causing trouble. Just no surprise foals this time, please._

* * *

 _Ha! Finally got chapter 3 finished. I would type a few paragraphs then lose interest so I would save it and leave so I wouldn't write anything down that was too bad. There is important information in my profile bio that would be in your best interest to read if you are a serious reader. If not, that's fine. This is a pretty weak chapter that serves to explain stuff. Hope you enjoy anyway!_

 _-Asleif_


	4. Chapter 4

Getting up out of bed and dressing was harder than I would have liked. Though I had mostly recovered from my wounds, my body was still weak. Unsteady on my feet, I was thankful that Arwen was there to offer support if I needed it. Though I had only just met the she-elf, I immediately decided that I liked her. The air around her was light and clear, and I could sense that her soul was strong and good. _Can't say much about my soul._ I snorted, amused by my own grizzly jibes at myself. Arwen looked at me concerned as she finished tying the laces on the gown that she suggested I wear. "Are you well? If you need to sit for a moment please do, you have only just recovered."

Although that wasn't it, I took a seat at the vanity anyway, for my head had felt light after so much moving around. "Because getting out of bed and dressing are just too difficult for me." I grumbled to myself chidingly. The Elf's ears twitched and I offered her what I hoped was a light smile, but it was more like a grimace. "It is nothing, Lady Arwen, just my thoughts is all. A lot has happened and I don't believe my mind has fully wrapped itself around everything yet." I looked down at the dress I was now secured into. It was beautiful, made from light soft fabric of greens and reds and browns, embellished with thick trim on the neck line and above the elbows, where the garment was tight to my body, while the sleeves from the elbows down were free to flow and billow like silk wings. "This dress is lovely; I haven't seen anything quite like it. Most garb in Skyrim is drowning in fur to battle the colder climate; I'm not accustomed to seeing such light fabric." I played with the folds of the skirt a little timidly, I mumbled half to myself, "I haven't worn a dress since only the Nine Divines know when." Standing up with an un-ladylike grunt, I pulled myself to my full height, much to the distress of my abused torso. "Well, I suspect I look strange. I do believe this fabric was not made for warriors with scars and tattoos and muscle." Glancing at Arwen, I added, "of course I am not slighting anyone." The Elf did smile, "No offence taken, my Lady. While I am trained with a bow and the art of the blade, I am far from being a warrior, which suits me just as well." She offered her arm to me in a friendly manner, "If you are ready, I shall escort you to the ones from your world who are waiting. They are quite eager."

Uncertainty settled in my stomach and anxiety twisted in my gut. Excitement also bubbled in my blood and fear tightened in my heart. Nonetheless I took Arwen's offered arm, grateful again for her presence; the grounding aspect of my surroundings that she provided. I had few Mer I could call 'friend', for I found most of the pointy-eared prats quite disagreeable. _Not to mention my deep setting hatred for the Aldmeri fucking Dominion. Damn them to the deepest pits of Oblivion!_

My mood had significantly darkened as we made our way from my rooms into the open hall-way that I almost didn't look around the new surroundings. The hall was made of the same white, smooth, twisting wood that my rooms were built of. The air was fragrant with autumn and clean mountain water, as well as filled with the sound of someone singing. No, not someone, there were many melodic voices that filled the air in song. Words in a strange tongue wound themselves through the air on the breeze. Laughter that was just as musical laced through with the music. It was so powerful I almost forgot my thoughts of the Dominion. "They are just on the other side of the main House of Imladris. There is food and drink when we get there." My attention was snapped back to the she-elf at myside. Her face was neutral but kind, "And if I may say, I believe the blue and black in your tattoos, as strange as they are, add to the dress. The colors go very well. Do they have meaning?"

So as we walked, slowly for my sake, I told her about the ink that decorated my body. Most of my back, shoulders, and arms were covered in blue, black, green, purple, and red ink designs and figures. Words in the dovah-zul, bands of knot work, ancient symbols of guidance and power, as well as different tributes to past deeds and accomplishments. "The bear on my right shoulder blade I got after killing my first bear. They are fierce creatures and difficult opponents. I was seventeen then, still quite young to tackle a bear, but I was accompanying my shield-brother Farkas on a contract to rough up some debtors, some people who could most definitely afford to pay up, but were trying to play the farmer for a fool.

"We found them, got our message across, and headed back to Whiterun. The whole trip was only four to five days, quite short, however on our return journey, Farkas and I took a short cut through the wilds." I smirked at the memory. "That is when we came across the cave bear. She was at least the size of a wagon. How the two of us got out of that mess alive and all limbs accounted for I still wonder."

Arwen laughed, "That is quite the story! What of the feline print on the top of your shoulder?" I touched the spot she mentioned, "A similar story, only it was a saber-cat while I was traveling through the Pale." The Lady looked confused, and asked, "What is a saber-cat?"

"They are huge cats that live in the snow wastelands of Skyrim, as well as the forested regions." I answered smoothly, "About the size of a pony, they have powerful front legs and massive shoulders. What really sets them apart is that their canine teeth are at least the length of my fore arm." Her eyes grew a little wide, "I have never seen nor heard of such a creature. How did you manage to get locked in battle with one?"

I couldn't help but laugh, "Saber-cats are quite common in Skyrim, and will pick off lone travelers along the roads if hungry enough. Usually they will wait for someone to wonder off into the wilds. For me, there was a spontaneous snowstorm that forced me to take refuge in rock outcropping, for I was still too far from the town of Dawnstar to which I was traveling to take care of issues with wide spread nightmares amongst the citizens. A saber-cat had the same idea, and we ended up fighting over it." Smiling at the memory, I completed with, "Obviously I won. His pelt made a very nice rug." Arwen smiled as well, "How older were you then?" For a moment I thought, "Early twenties. I was a full-fledged Companion by then, this was my third or fourth contract on my own. The Companions rarely take contracts alone, but at the time we were short whelps, and very few stayed long enough to be inducted fully. Contracts kept coming in, but our numbers kept dwindling…" I grew quiet, remember how hard it had been for all of us. Fear that the Companions would soon dissipate completely had been very strong. "Luckily those times have passed, and we are strong in numbers again, although not to our former glory just yet."

The Elf Lady nodded her head. "You speak as if this time were so long ago, but you cannot be past the age of twenty-five winters by human aging, unless I am mistaken." We walked across a court yard full of early autumn flowers and trees with leaves of gold and orange and red. The fountain at its center gurgled and splashed merrily. I paused to admire the marble figures around the fountains base. Elven warriors rode horses while carrying spears and banners wound around it. "Thank you for saying I still look so young; however, this winter shall by my thirty-fourth one." Continuing through the house, Arwen ventured hesitantly to ask, "Is it the Wolf Blood?" Shaking my head, I replied simply with, "No."

Bowing her head slightly, she said, "Please forgive me my Lady, I should not ask such question, it is not polite. I am just curious of you. You seem to have a certain degree of ease around my father and I that mortals would not usually have." I waved her apology away, "It is nothing Lady Arwen, I am in your father's house, you have every right to ask questions, but you are correct, I do feel at ease at your side. Your mind is good as well as your soul. I have not sensed someone so untouched by evil in any way my entire life."

We continued in silence for a little longer. The singing and laughter of the other inhabitants of Rivendell still floated around us as we walked. I was surprised to find that although the halls of the inner house were walled, the high arching windows allowed the fallen leaves of the trees to whirl around the stone flagged floor. Even with so much debris from the autumn trees, the House of Elrond did not look or feel messy or un-kept. In fact, it added character and serenity to the atmosphere.

"What of the wolves on your left shoulder blade?" My mind almost stopped at her question. I looked at her, my yellow eyes unwavering as they locked with hers. Her face was relaxed and expressionless. "It is the most beautiful ink upon your body." she stated, almost as an explanation for her question.

For a moment I did not respond. The answer was simple enough, but it was the significance and meaning behind it that brought waves of heavy emotion upon my mind. "I had it done after I took the Wolf Blood when I was about twenty-eight. Those inducted into the Circle of the Companions were offered the Blood. All those in the Circle are werewolves…" I trailed off. Part of me wanted to mention that Áskell and I had gotten the same tattoo after we had both taken the Wolf Blood together, but I could not answer any questions that the Lady Arwen would surly ask about my beloved twin. It would be too painful.

Perhaps sensing that I no longer wished to speak on the subject, the Elf began to sing softly along with a song that was obviously coming from somewhere very close by. We passed another courtyard on our left that had stone garden benches in a semi-circle, and upon them sat four Elves, while another was standing and plucking a tune on a richly route lyre. Three were singing while the other two listened happily. The music was absolutely beautiful, but what struck me the most was just how beautiful these Elves were. All five had long hair of black, chocolate brown or rich gold, porcelain white skin, high sharp facial features, and wore robes and gowns of the lightest, richest fabric I had ever seen. Even with these feature, it was clear who was male and who was female. I couldn't describe how I could tell (aside from their garments), I just could tell, no question. I had assumed that the Lady Arwen and Lord Elrond were fair for their race, for I hadn't seen any Mer quite as stunning as they were. _Are all the Elves in Middle-Earth this fair?_

Before I knew it, Arwen had directed me down a short hall way and to a wooden door carved from a solid piece of wood, with designs of leaves and vines and small animals up and down it. "We are here. These are my father's private quarters; they will be waiting for us in the common room." The Lady knocked lightly, then pushed the door open soundlessly. Before us was an open room with stairs that went up to an out-door landing. Off to the right was another door that stood open and revealed what seemed to be a study, with the walls lined with high bookshelves, and a desk and many tables laden with books, papers, and curious artifacts and instruments. On the left, through an open archway, was a common area with plush couches and chairs. Before we had even entered the Lord's quarters I could hear as well as smell two unfamiliar presences. They talked quietly between themselves, but ceased when Arwen lead me towards them.

The two humans, for they were indeed a man and a woman, stood from a red velvet couch. Something about them was familiar, although I was sure I had never met them before. The man, who was garbed in a fine burgundy tunic and trousers similar to that of Imperial nobles from the Imperial City (although these seemed awfully dated), had dark hair with a few silver streaks, tanned skin like that of an Imperial, and striking blue eyes that were a strong contrast to his darker skin tone. The woman was dressed in a deep blue gown in the style of the elves, although a bit more modest on the neck-line. Her silver-streaked blond-brown hair was tied back in one of the traditional styles of a Nord shield-maiden, her eyes were a clear sky blue and yet had a certain depth of age to them. Her fair skin in many places was marred by faded scars of battle, and on her right wrist in gold, red, and black ink was the dragon of Akatosh.

Before they even spoke I knew who they were, for it was a tale that every true Son or Daughter of the Nine knew well.

They bowed their heads in greeting, and the Imperial spoke first as Arwen and I came to stand before them, "Lord Elrond will be joining us in a little while. The hobbit, Frodo, has awakened from his dark slumber and he has gone to tend to him." He smiled warmly, and gestured for us to take a seat. I did so automatically, my mind still processing what it had just worked out. The Nord shield-maiden sat again on the couch with the Imperial. "We were surprised, yet not to say alarmed at your arrival here in Middle-earth. You see, many years ago, by Mans reckoning at least, we appeared much in the same manner and, what we are lead to believe, similar circumstances. My husband and I are from Tamriel. I was born in Skyrim and he was born in Cyrodiil. My name is-"

"You're the Champion of Cyrodiil, the Hero of Kvatch." I said in a hushed tone. All three went quiet and the Hero blinked, "That is a title I have not heard in many years from another. Yes, I am Ásleif Daedra-slayer." She cast a side glance at the Imperial. "Since you know who I am, you must know who he is as well." My gaze drifted from the Lady to him, "You are Martin Septim, last of the Septim Dynasty." I couldn't help but gape at the two. It had been over two-hundred years since the Oblivion Crisis of the 3rd Era. By all accounts both of them should be long dead, for only those of the Mer races had a life span of a few hundred years. Martin Septim had sacrificed himself to banish Mehrunes Dagon from Nirn, and the Hero had basically gone mad and disappeared, never seen or heard from again. The Imperial and the Nord sitting across the low table from me were well past their middle years, but also far from their deaths. Both had the apparent signs of aging: silvering hair and wrinkles, but both still looked strong with an air of youthfulness about them.

Snapping my mouth shut, I sat up a little straighter, bowing my head in respect, "Please forgive my rudeness, my Lord, my Lady. The most fabled Heros of the Empire are the last people I would expect to meet in this life or the next. My father use to tell us stories of the Great Daedra-slayer and the young kind-hearted heir to the throne of the Empire." I glanced at the shield-maiden a little sheepishly and added, "I was named after you, in fact, I am Ásleif Wolfborn. I understand now Lord Elrond's surprise upon hearing my name when I spoke it."

Both Martin (he was adamant I called him by his first name) and the Hero had only some idea how much time had passed in Tamriel, for the time lines were different. Both appeared younger than they should have because they had been living in Rivendell for just over sixty years or so, which was how long they had been in Middle-earth. "I am sure it is also the magic of the Elves." Martin had added. Ásleif still needed a moment to take in the fact that so many years had passed in Tamriel. "My mother and father are dead, no question to that. I had left my home in Skyrim about a year before the Oblivion Crisis began, leaving them as well. I never saw them again."

They asked many questions about Tamriel. Much had changed. Martins death had been the small stones that began a landslide. "The Empire is at war with the Stormcloak rebels in Skyrim." I explained, "The Aldmeri Dominion has the executioner's ax ready to fall on the neck of the Empire whenever they deem the time is right. Emperor Titus Mede II is but a pawn to the Altmer Elves of the Thalmor." I took a sip of water from the refreshments that were on a tray. My temper had risen while talking about the troubles my homeland faced, and what it meant for her people. "After the Great War, a pact was made between the Emperor and the Dominion called the White-Gold Concordat. A truce was called, as the Dominion knew that they could defeat the Empire, and the Empire knew we would all be slaughtered. Part of this pact was to out-law the worship of Talos."

Both had become angry, "How dare they? The citizens of the Empire would not stand for it! Especially the people of Skyrim." I shook my head, "No, we did not stand for it, that is what sparked the rebellion." I preceded to tell them a brief history of the Great War, how the slaughter of the Blades at Cloud-Ruler Temple was the point of no return for war, and what happened after it, how Ulfric Stormcloak harbored a deep resentment for all Mer after his time in the hands of the Thalmor. "Windhelm is in shambles, the great city built by Ysgramor himself, left to rot because Ulfric is too caught up with his rebellion. The people of Skyrim war amongst themselves and cannot see how the Dominion is using them as a distraction to blind the Empire from what is truly happening. Skyrim is all but cut off from the rest of the provinces, even more so now that the Thalmor have taken ahold of us by the throat. Nothing and no one goes in and out without permission from them." I took a deep breath, "Regulation is needed at the borders, but when it comes down to executing travelers without a trial," I growled deep in my throat, "that's when the line needs to be drawn."

Martin was deeply troubled. _He is guilty,_ I said to the Wolf, _if he had managed to defeat Dagon without having to sacrifice himself, the Empire wouldn't be where it is now._ The Wolf whined. _I know, he shouldn't,_ I responded, _what he did was truly heroic and an act of selflessness. I feel terrible that his sacrifice should be shoved aside by petty politics and selfish bastards._

So tied into my own separate conversation in my head, I almost didn't catch Ásleif's question, "You say there is a civil war raging in Skyrim, has anything…" she struggled for a moment, "…else, happened?" I grimaced, and began to tell them of the resurrection of the dragons, and the unfolding of the prophesy of Alduin's return. "Very few know of the prophesy and the history of the Dragon Wars. Many histories, in fact, are unclear to many. The Thalmor have cut the flow of knowledge and information that is allowed to circulate through Skyrim. They hope we will forget our roots and bow to their will." I shifted uncomfortably, "Along with Alduin's return, the prophesy spoke of a Hero that would rise up against the First Son of Akatosh and cast him down." Martin furrowed his brow, "The Last Dragonborn? Has the hero of old come forward and fulfilled his destiny as the Savior of Man?"

I twisted the ruby ring on my finger, "Aye," I began slowly, "she has." Glancing up at the two Heros I took another breath, "I am the Dragonborn, the Dovahkiin, as the dovah call me. I have the Power of the Voice stronger than any man or beast." The next half-hour was spent recalling everything that had happened after my discovering the Power that resided within my soul. Everything that I had told them of the Blades seemed to almost physically hurt them, they had been close with the organization throughout the Crisis beyond just them being the bodyguards of the Emperor. From what they had said they were all like family. To hear of their bloody destruction and then how bitter, hateful, and short-sighted Delphine and Esbern was difficult for them, I could tell.

Arwen was silent the whole time that we had been sitting. She knew much of what I spoke of already from Martin and Ásleif, however I could tell that the talk of Tamriel from a different source that had more recent information had captivated the she-elf. Our worlds were similar, yet so different. Martin said that the Mer here in Middle-earth were immortal beings, and that dragons had always existed, although they were in the far north and seldom were seen across the Misty Mountains, and were mortal beings who could still live hundreds of years. Dwarves existed as one of the many races in Middle-earth, and "orcs" were a twisted, evil race who were the servants of Evil. Eventually, she did speak, "Forgive me, but what is a "Dragonborn"?"

I blinked, then replied, "My apologies milady, I had forgotten you are not familiar with our legends. The Dragonborn is a mortal body that possesses the soul of an immortal dragon. There is an ancient power called the Voice that allows the Dragonborn, or anyone who has learned, to project his or her voice into a thu'um, or Shout as they are called. The dovah have the instinctive ability to do this, for a Shout is in the language of the dovah. These powers can be anything from breathing fire to summoning thunderstorms to challenging other dragons to do battle. Being Dragonborn, I learn these Shouts as well as the language as if I were born a dov. A normal mortal would have to spend many years trying to learn even the simplest Shouts."

At this moment, Lord Elrond appeared. "Please excuse my lateness, I would have joined you sooner, however I feared interrupting you. I have heard everything, which would coincide with what was seen at the Ford." He sat in one of the chairs with a glass of what appeared to be wine. "You were able to push the Nazgûl back, then become like a specter, none of their blades could touch you." Again I nodded slowly in what seemed the hundredth time in a short span. "Yes, that was the Unrelenting Force Shout, one of the first I ever learned. I did not us the full shout, for it is powerful enough to tear flesh apart and break bone, and the other was an Ethereal Shout, I could not harm nor be harmed by any blade."

I don't think I had ever seen two Elves so genially interested in something. Lord Elrond had many questions about the nature of the thu'um, and I explained about the three words that made up a Shout, as well as the Dragonborn being a "professional" dragon slayer, and how I absorbed a dragon's power after its death. Once a silence settled between the five of us, I asked, "How is the hobbit, Frodo?" The corners of the dark-haired Mer's lips turned up slightly, "He has healed remarkably, and wishes to see you, however I recommended a little more rest before meeting with anyone. He is still very weak."

Once thinking of it, I realized just how tired I was feeling. My shoulder and chest hurt, as did my torso, and basically everything else. The weather was much warmer here, and although it was autumn, Arwen had told me that the Hidden Valley tended to stay pretty mild all year round. Even so, I was sweating quite unattractively in what to me was a quite intense heat.

Evening had begun to descend upon Rivendell. Little lights and lanterns were flickering to life in the different halls and gardens of the House. We had a light supper that had been brought to us by the servants of the House. It was after this time that Lord Elrond suggested I get a decent night sleep. "Tomorrow, if it pleases you, you are free to wonder Imladris as it pleases you. I would caution you against leaving the boundaries of the Valley without a proper escort or company. The Hidden Valley is vast, so I see no reason to leave for the time being."

I stood and bid them all goodnight, and thanked them all for my welcome here. The Daedra-slayer stood with me. "I wish to walk with you, if you wouldn't mind my company." she said, and we left the Elf Lord's private quarters. She walked slowly, do doubt from the age that was not expressed in her features, but I was tired enough that the slower pace was appreciated. Many more of the residence of Rivendell were out in the evening; drinking, singing, dancing, and enjoying the beauty that was the Hidden Valley. We walked in silence almost all the way to my rooms, till the women beside me asked, "Your eyes, they are the eyes of a predator." It was a statement not a question. Hesitating slightly, I didn't quite know how to respond, "Well… as you already know, I am a Companion, and I am a part of the Circle. We are werewolves." She faltered in her steps, and looked at me with a stunned look, "So you serve the Prince Hircine?" Her voice was hard, and her eyes had a dangerous glint to them. Tension rose between us, and the Wolf's hackles went up. For a moment neither of us moved, then the shadow passed and she relaxed. "I'm sorry, I have had terrible run-ins with one or two Princes and more Daedra than I care to try and count. I am not called "Daedra-slayer" for nothing. The time of the Oblivion Crisis is not so easily forgotten."

The Wolf cautioned me still as we reached the door to my room. "I do not serve Hircine. I have been a Wolf for many years. My brother-" I paused to take a shaky breath, "-my brother and I took the Blood together. We were young and did not realize the consequences that would follow. Eventually we were able to form a sort of bond with our Beasts that is not common. We would joke between ourselves that our Wolf Spirits were the defects of Hircine's pack." I sighed, feeling very much drained, and a dull but all too familiar ache began to build up in my chest. With the excitement of the day having finally caught up with me, I really needed to be alone. "I will see you when the new day dawns, but for now I must rest. Goodnight Ásleif Daedra-slayer, never did I imagine I would ever meet you or Martin. It does gladden me to learn that you were able to be reunited and find peace."

She smiled sadly, "We went through many trials and heart-aches to be where we are now, happily married with children and grandchildren in one of the most peaceful places to be found in any World. I have left the sword and the shield and bow behind me, and I am content. Dark days are ahead of us, Dragonborn, but at the end you will find peace." The Hero curtsied and left.

With as much control as possible, I opened the door and entered the room, however as soon as the door was closed I pressed my back to it as hard as I could, squeezing my eyes shut and clenched my fists, breathing hard. There was no suppressing the emotions welling up inside of me. The pain in my chest seemed to swell, making every beat of my heart painful. Taking a few deep desperate breaths through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, I focused on extinguishing the candles that had been lit while I was gone. The room soon became shadowed in the dark of evening, the only source of light the torches and lanterns shining in through the arching windows. Even with the dark, I could still see vivid shapes as sharp as if it were day, only there was less color, mostly shadows of different hues and depths. A soft breeze still ruffled the curtains, but even though it was cooler than the early autumn air, I felt like I was being suffocated in the unfamiliar warmth.

I was in another World. Others were here but from a different time. I had no pack, no kin, no familiar, just Legends and superior beings. The Companions were in danger as the Silverhand were becoming bolder, even as to ambush me on the road. And before that with Áskell….. even just thinking of him triggered many things. The last year had been the most difficult since the events that began the whole Dragonborn business.

"No," I choked out loud, "don't think of that, don't think…. just don't…." As was usual, talking to myself didn't help. My whole body began to tremble as if I were running a fever, and my hearing became muted, like I was under water.

I staggered to the vanity, pouring myself a glass of water with shaky hands. After throwing it back like it was from the finest bottle of mead, I braced myself against the cool wood of the vanity and focused on breathing. Another wave of nausea swept over me and I almost lost the contents of my stomach. I suppressed the groan that rose up in my throat and instead let out a high pitched whine akin to that of a canine. I snapped my head up and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time since I had arrived: earlier I didn't dare. My dark blond hair was ruffled and my face was beaded with sweat. Two glowing eyes of a predator reflected back at me, pupils so dilated they were black saucers with yellow rims: the eyes of a Wolf.

Though the Wolf inside and I did get along and collaborated for the good of both of us, it was in these moments of weakness she would follow instinct, attempting to take over. She pushed at the seams of my mind and it took all my self-control and will-power to keep her back. She was in just as much pain as I was. _Not now!_ I screamed at her. _It is not time to hunt, I must be in control!_ With great effort, I forced the Wolf back slowly. Distant voices filled my head, growing louder as I put all my concentration into holding the Beast in check. Screams and sounds of battle echoed in my ears though they did not come from any of my surroundings or even this moment in time.

 _Not again…_

Knees buckling from under me, I lost my grip on the vanity and fell to the floor. The Wolf retreaded back into my mind as I lost consciousness.

* * *

 _This was a difficult chapter to write, and I am still not completely pleased with it. Please review! Even if it just says "I like it!" please do._


	5. Chapter 5

"Son of a bitch…." The rope that bound my wrists together was rubbing the skin raw. As the wagon rolled over yet another hole in the road, jostling everyone in it, I hissed in discomfort, cursing under my breath. Glancing beside me, I saw that Áskell was still out-cold, blood crusted on his face from an open wound on his right temple. He was slumped over awkwardly in his seat and I was doing my best to keep him upright, but it was difficult.

Taking a quick look at the rear guard and the driver, I nudged him with my shoulder, "Áskell? Brother, wake up! This isn't the time nor the place to take a nap…" I had hoped a little joke would have done the trick, however he only groaned. "He'll wake up, lass, we still have some ways to go, I would wager, before we get to where these Imperials are taking us." The man sitting across from Áskell had spoken. I studied him for a moment: he wore the standard Stormcloak uniform, had light blue eyes and light blond hair. He looked strangely familiar, but his scent was masked by dirty leather and sweaty men so I couldn't pin point it. I scowled at him, "It is because of you Stormcloaks that we were caught in this mess. You must be dumber then you look if you thought you could attack half a legion of Imperial Soldiers with only Ulfric Stormcloak's," I jabbed my head in the direction of the bound and gagged man in question sitting next to me, "body guard. I knew you rebels were few and desperate, but really? I expected better."

The blond Nord just looked at me with a sullen expression, while I could practically feel the heat of anger radiating from the leader of the Rebels. "I expected better from you, Companion." The blond looked me up and down, motioning to my Wolf armor, "The fabled warriors of Ysgramor should know better than to show partisan to the Empire, and through them the Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion. And we didn't attack them, we were ambushed."

I pulled at my bonds, fueling the anger that was rising up in me with the pain in my wrists and arms. I growled deep in my chest, "Do not make such accusations towards me of my shield-siblings, _Rebel_. We Companions take no part in this war, which is as it should be. We help the common folk as well as the nobles. Who do you help, other than your selves? You have made things worse than they already were! Everyone has grievances from the Great War, and what followed," I glared at the Jarl of Windhelm, "some of us couldn't just let it go." I growled again, "My brother and I lost our father, and then our mother to grief. You are making your war with the wrong people." I held the blonds gaze steadily till he looked away towards the front of the wagon train: each one was filled with Stormcloak soldiers.

"How did you get mixed up in this then? If you are on neither side?" he asked, still not looking at me. Having half a mind not to waste my time answering, I grumbled, "We had just finished a job near Darkwater Crossing, and while passing through we were surrounded by Imperial soldiers." I didn't say anything else on the subject.

After about another hour of riding, the road began to slope downwards, making the journey even more uncomfortable. My acute sense of direction told me we were heading north-west or so, and the nearest settlement would be Helgan. I didn't voice any of this out-loud, for the Stormcloaks around me seemed to be under the impression that the Imperials were taking us into Cyrodiil, to the Imperial City. We were heading in the opposite direction.

 _This can't be good._

My thoughts were broken by a low grumbling coming from beside me. "Áskell!" I said a little too loudly, making him wince and the driver to glare at me. Fighting the urge to tell him to "fuck off", I turned all my attention on my brother. "How are you feeling?" I asked almost at a whisper. He clenched his yellow eyes shut and blinked a few times, "Like shit, to be honest." His voice was no more than a croak. Clearing his throat, he looked around blearily, taking in our surroundings, and saying a little stronger, "Where are we?" Towns people had begun to appear on the road, traveling to and from various settlements and establishments in the area. "Probably near Helgan," I replied, "you've been out for some time now. Darkwater Crossing is far behind us."

A thief bound in the wagon with us, who's name I did not care to remember, suddenly looked alarmed, "Helgan?" he said nervously, the Wolf and I found him quite irritating, "Why would they be taking us there?" The blond Stormcloak, on the other hand, did not look surprised: he seemed to have figured we were not heading south. "Perhaps we are just passing through, but then again we could also not be..." the soldier trailed off. The thief tried his best to look brave, "Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine till you came along, the Empire was nice and lazy…." Losing interest in their banter, I turned my attention back to Áskell, "Are you alright? That's a nasty bump you've got there." Despite our current situation, he grinned, "Nothing old Tilma won't be able to patch up when we get back to Jorrvaskr." I snorted at his optimism, "You mean 'if' we get back." Nudging me playfully with his shoulder, his grin widened, "We've been in worse situations. We have nothing to do with these guys, and we're Companions, you and I were just passing by Darkwater Crossing and happened upon their little skirmish. We'll explain that and get off the hook once we reach Helgan." Sending him a look, I narrowed my eyes, "How can you be so sure?" Áskell shrugged, "I see no other good options for us."

By now we had reached the town. Imperial soldiers stood atop its crumbing walls in even intervals. As we rolled through the open gate, I heard the blond Stormcloak scoff, "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." Áskell and I exchanged worried looks. Sure enough, the General had directed his horse over to obvious Aldmeri Dominion agents on horse-back, where they then exchanging words. If the Thalmor are here… "Ásleif," my twins face had gone grey, "this can't be good."

* * *

As I awoke on the carpeted stone floor, I coughed violently. Blood was in my mouth and a welt was forming on my tongue from where I had bitten it. Fighting to suppress the urge to vomit, I rolled onto my side, biting back a yelp of pain. The Wolf was quiet and sitting curled into herself. I took a moment to steady my gasping breaths, then pushed myself into a sitting position. Pain burned down my entire body. Night had fallen over Rivendell completely, fairy lights now danced in the trees, giving off a soft light. Most of the other lights that had been alight earlier were now out, and the House of Elrond lay quiet.

With a groan, I stood shakily, having to use the vanity chair for support. I was coated with sweat, the dress sticking to my skin uncomfortably and I shivered violently with every cool breeze the fluttered the curtains despite the warmer climate. Quickly as I could, I worked clumsily at the laces on the dress, desperate to be out of it. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, my blood. The whole left side of the beautiful garment was soaked in the red metallic liquid. It finally pooled on the floor around my feet. Having to use water from the wash basin I carefully pealed back the fabric that bound my stitched-up wounds. Where the skin had managed to already begin growing back together had been pulled apart, straining against the sutures that kept my insides on the inside. A few had come undone from the stress.

A whine escaped my throat before I could catch it. My mind was in shambles having to yet again live one of the precious, yet horrific last moments with Áskell. Luckily I had woken up before the memory could reel out in full. Picking the dress up and laying over the vanity chair, I regretted ruining something so pretty, and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my little episode a secret from Lady Arwen or Lord Elrond for long, the dress wouldn't go unnoticed, and I lacked the necessary supplies to re-stitch my side.

As if on cue, there was a soft, but firm knock on the door. "Shit," I said under my breath, then louder, "Just a moment!" Finding my saddle bags and pack in the wardrobe, I pulled out a spare tunic and trousers, throwing them on quickly. Composing myself, I opened the door, and not surprisingly found Lord Elrond waiting patiently in the hallway. "I am sorry to disturb you, Lady Ásleif, I was having difficulty resting and thought I might go for an evening walk," The Elf Lord paused, "I couldn't help but sense unrest coming from here; are you well my Lady?"

His gaze was so intense that any thoughts I may have had of denying the fact that anything was wrong were quickly dashed, and I lowered my gaze, shaking my head. "It seems that the wound on my side has reopened, my Lord." I turned back into the room, silently voicing my permission for Lord Elrond to enter. He did, closing the door behind him. "Would you like me to close the wound back up for you?" he asked. "Please, if you wouldn't mind, I would greatly appreciate it." I stood for a moment longer, then with a shaky hand I reached for the nearest candle. With a touch of my finger to the wick, a flame came to life. "You will need light, I suppose, I often forget others do not see as well as I do in the dark." Going around the room, I relit all the candles in the same fashion. "While I can see just as well in light or dark, light would be appreciated." After I was done he set about removing the old sutures and re-stitching my side. "I would have healed it myself, however the little magic I know is focused in the school of Destruction." I said, breaking the silence, "my skill in restoration doesn't go beyond healing minor scrapes and cuts."

Lord Elrond quickly and skillfully finished the last knot, then wrapped a clean bandage around my torso. "Lady Ásleif Daedra-slayer and I have spoken at length about the different Schools of Magic in Tamriel, it is most interesting." After washing his hands in the basin of water, Lord Elrond turned to me. "You do not look well, my Lady. Is there anything I could do to help?" I hesitated, but again found that his unwavering gaze wouldn't let me say 'no'. "I do not wish to trouble you with my demons, my Lord, you and your people have already been so kind in opening your home to me, when you have no obligation to." I suddenly found the nearest candle flame very interesting. The Elf bowed his head, "It is no trouble Lady Ásleif. My home is open to all those with a good will and need for a roof over their heads." A moment of silence followed as he waited to see if I would continue.

After a minute I did. "My Lord," I began slowly, "have you ever lost someone you thought you wouldn't be able to live without? They had been with you your entire life, since your beginning, and you never thought that you would have to live the pain that is losing them before the time of your end?" My question hung in the air between us. I could hear the silent shuffling of light fine robes behind me. Finally, the Elf Lord spoke, "Yes, and at the same time, no." Turning round, I was slightly surprised to see that he had taken a seat at the fire place, and beginning to coax a flame to life. "I am only half-elven. At a time in my life I had a choice: accept the gift of immortality, or to remain a mortal. I chose immortality." He paused, a fire now alive in the grate, "My twin brother, Elros, chose mortality, and died a mortal death when it was his time." Elrond considered his hands on his lap, "It was…. difficult, to accept that he would die while I lived on, and when he did die…. even more so to accept his death."

Taking the seat across from him, I could feel deep pangs of sorrow, "I am sorry, even with such an inevitable end, I am sure it did not make losing your twin brother any easier." I sat back in my chair, huffing out a breath, feeling drained. "It is a pain I feel most violently."

A curious spark appeared in the Elf Lord's eyes, but he did not press. However, for once I told someone who was willing to listen, "Like you, I had a twin brother. Áskell, was his name, after our great-grandfather." My throat constricted, and I took a second to let it pass, "I lost him shortly before I discovered I was Dragonborn." I paused again with a shaky breath. "We did everything together, of course there was a span of time where we couldn't stand the sight of one another, but in the end we were always together." I smiled, "Once we were fully fledged Companions, we fulfilled contracts together. Sure, every now and then we would mix things up and go on with one of our other shield-siblings, but we were a team, a well-oiled Dwewer fighting machine. Right up till the end." My smile faded. "He was murdered; beheaded while I had no choice but to watch, by the people who would see my home burn and her people cower in submission." Rubbing a hand harshly down my face I found my cheeks wet with tears. "Damn." Wiping my face furiously now, I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled the strands tightly, "does the pain ever stop? Will I ever wake up and find that I can live contently with his memory as everyone is telling me I should?"

Feeling a warm comforting hand on my shoulder, I looked up to meet Elrond's grey eyes. What was that I saw in them? Pity? Sorrow? "The pain will never truly go away, just as those who love us never truly leave us." He said softly, "But do not waste time looking behind you, you are not going that way." With a pat on my right shoulder and a sweep of silent robes, the Elf Lord left the room.

After a moment alone by the fire, I stood, moving to the bed. Lying flat on the light sheets, not even bothering to get under them for fear I might boil to death, I closed my eyes for sleep. For once, in my exhausted state, the Wolf did not plague my sleep with horrible nightmares.

* * *

The next morning, I found myself outside without an escort and most of the House still resting. For the first time in many months I had slept some-what well. Though I did not sleep long, the Wolf did not have any nasty dreams that had me waking up in a fit and a cold sweat. The dew on the lawn was still cool, and the streams and pools of Rivendell still had mist hanging about them. Birds were singing in the bushes and a soft cool breeze that always seemed to blow filled the air. It was quite peaceful, and any of the early-rising residents I passed on my wondering nodded politely in greeting. While I walked, I thought on my conversation with Lord Elrond the night before. He was right, I needed to grieve and move on, but how could I with little to no closure on Áskell's murder? To do so I would have to forgive those who killed him. "I would cut out my own heart without hesitation before forgiving those Thalmor bastards." I snorted. "Kodlak always says that revenge leads to only more bloodshed and death than is necessary, but this would be so sweet." The Wolf licked her lips, enjoying this train of thought. "Only revenge would be futile because from what I can tell I'm pretty fucking far from any Aldmeri Dominion agents." I snorted. After doing something as simple as talking with someone who would listen, I felt remarkably better. A deep pain still throbbed but I also was lighter, like my head wasn't about to explode with so much pent up emotion.

The path I followed lead away from the buildings and courtyards of the House and out into the surrounding trees. The greenery was still very well maintained, but with still a wild and free feel. The soft leather boots I had dug out of my bag and now wore made barely a sound on the stone path as I walked. I knew I should be making my way back before anyone started wondering about my absence. As I was about to turn and head back, I noticed two people on another path that joined mine up ahead. Immediately I recognized Lady Arwen, and the scent of the man with her was familiar. He had deep brown hair that came below his ears, and eyes as grey as steel. They did not speak, but walked arm in arm comfortably in silence. Smiling, I left them as silently as I could.

Back up the path now and coming to the outer-most courtyards, I sang a little under my breath to match my mood and to join the songs of the Elves that were being lifted up by the soft wind:

" _From the mists of the mountains, a deafening call,_

 _bellows down over the plains!_

 _On a host of battle worn ears it does fall,_

 _pushing down through the thunder and rain._

 _These men of the North, they have suffered too long,_

 _the anger it swells in their-"_

I stopped mid verse. Something had come bounding into the courtyard from one of the many flower bushes around its border, and stopped mid bound upon the sight of me. It was a cat, a big, extremely fluffy cat. Its coat was a sandy orange and white, and its eyes were a bright ever-green. Considering me for a moment its tail stood up, swishing back and forth. "You are the cuddliest looking creature I think I have ever seen." I said, getting down on my hands and knees to be more at its level. It sat down as well, not breaking eye contact. The Wolf was wagging its tail playfully, and I had to keep in mind not to try and do the same. The cat didn't move. After taking a quick look around and finding I was still alone in the courtyard with the cat, I stretched at flat on my front, extending my arms, "Come here kitty, I just want to say hello." It still just stared, pivoting his ears thoughtfully. "I promise," I continued, "despite how I smell I will not hurt you." Dogs usually coward at the smell of one of the members of the Circle and cats would hiss and run. Livestock had various reactions; those who were not use to the Wolf scent would spook, but the ones that knew our smell, like Gunnolf, took no notice of it. After another moment I rolled onto my side, "Come on, please?" Being the predator I always waited for them to come to me first. But the little shit got up and walked away lazily. "No!" I called after it, "please come back."

Getting to my feet, I brushed the dirt and dust off my hands and clothing. I paused when I heard a rich chuckle, "Do not worry, he knows you mean no harm now and will come to you eventually." Spinning round, there was an Elf standing in the arch-way leading to the another gardens. I blushed, clearing my throat. "I was not aware that there was anyone near-by to see my attempt at getting a cat to like me." The Elf laughed out right, "You are not the first to try and woo that feline: two of the younger hobbits have already tried to entice him with treats from the dining table after he visited them." Still smiling, he bowed, "I am called Glorfindel, I believe we have already met although without introductions." He came forward and offered me his hand, which I took, and he kissed the top of mine lightly. Despite myself I blushed even harder. _Damn these insufferably gorgeous Elves!_ He had long hair, longer then even Lord Elrond's. It was the most stunning color of gold I had ever seen, shining like the polished metal in the early sun. His eyes were a striking deep pools crystal clear blue. Like the other Elves I had seen so far in Rivendell, Glorfindel was very fair skinned, although he had a natural pink in his cheeks I hadn't seen. I was beginning to wonder what he was talking about when he continued to speak, "I was at the Ford, and crossed shortly after you and your horse did. I spoke to you although I believe you were not able to hear me." He smiled, reveling perfectly white straight teeth. "Ah yes, I knew I recognized you from somewhere, I am Ásleif Wolfborn," I was sure he already knew my name, but I smiled and continued, "I was quite disoriented and not well at all at that time, so please forgive my slowness at not remembering." He nodded, "There is nothing to forgive, I just thank the Valor that you and Frodo Baggins are well now. Will you walk with me back to the House? Breakfast should be in the dining hall by the time we make it back." The Elf gestured down the path. _Such polite manners, Farkas would have just said 'Race you!'._ I thought to the Wolf. She only huffed in response. Accepting his invitation, we began to walk side by side.

As we walked we spoke about resent events and the Elf Glorfindel asked a few questions. "Please, tell me, although I have already heard it from my Lord Elrond I would like to hear from you: how did you come to be in Middle-Earth, for you are indeed from Lady Ásleif Daedra-slayers homeland?" Puffing out a long breath I recounted what I could remember of my last moments in Skyrim, "The archer took aim and I knew it was the end, but before his arrow struck me dead, there was a flash of bright light and suddenly I was at the edge of the wood facing the plain and the river and the Nine were riding after the hobbit, Frodo, though I did not know all that at the time." I paused, "I'm sure you already know this but Martin and the Daedra-Slayer came here in a similar way, both appearing here in flashes of light and missing what would have been there death. Martin obviously combining his body with the blood of a god and sacrificing himself to defeat Mehrunes Dagon, and I am the only one from Tamriel who knows what happened to the Champion because I heard it from her: a mountain troll attack while traveling through the Jerall Mountains from Cyrodiil to Skyrim." Taking a deep breath, I glanced apologetically up at the Elf, "I'm sorry, I sometimes get carried away when I am in good company." _Did I really just say that?_ The Wolf hid her face with her paws. However, he only laughed merrily, "I am flattered you consider my dull person 'good company', you clearly have not met Elladan and Elrohir yet."

"Who are they?" We were nearing the house now, "They are Lord Elrond's twin sons. They currently are outside the Valley, patrolling down-stream of the Bruinen, where the Nine and their steeds were swept off by the flood. I am sure the two will return within a sennight." As we ascended the stairs in the main Hall, I could see that there were many more people about than I had seen so far. "Come," Glorfindel said, "I shall show you were we can find breakfast."

I was glad for the food and drink. Many people I hadn't met yet were at the long breakfast table, including the four hobbits and among them was Frodo. He thanked me for what I did at the Ford, "If you hadn't attacked those Riders, my Lady, I am certain they would have over taken me," the small person shuddered, "I thank you with all my heart." The other three, whose names I had learned were Merry, Pippin, and Samwise, were a little warry of me at first, but not above offering me thanks as well. To break the ice with them, I asked, "So, which set of two of you four tried to woo a great big fluffy cat?" That did the trick, Merry and Pippin dove enthusiastically into a story about how "the great hairy beast" stole some of their bacon the morning before, and then refused to go near any of them, staying out of reach by jumping up onto bookshelves and tables that were just too high for them. "The wee rascal wouldn't come near any of us, but he wasn't afraid, I could tell! I could see on his smug round cat face he was taunting us from up where he was." Pippin was standing on his chair demonstrating just how high out of reach the cat had been, before he was tugged not so gently back into his seat by Sam and Merry.

When breakfast ended, I realized I had not laughed that much in a very, very long time.

* * *

 _Finally it's up, I spent a long while on this and I was never really happy with it, but I am sill building the story as well as characters so I suppose it will be like that for a few more chapters a least. Reviews as always, even if it is just to say "It's not total garbage and you're okay at writing." The song in this chapter is a few verses from "Sovngarde Song" by Miracle of Sound._


	6. Chapter 6

Since my stay in Rivendell seemed to be indefinite, it made sense that I learn the customs and language of the Elves living here, as well as the geography and history of Middle-Earth. The Daedra-slayer volunteered to school me in the Elven language, Sindarin, for she had become fluent in her long years among the elves, and Arwen was the first to suggest I also learn the history and people of Middle-Earth. So I had my two tutors.

The following few days were frustrating. The Wolf was pacing and becoming more and more restless. Fighting, mauling, killing, devouring souls, and Paarthurnax were the outlets I had for my aggression and emotions. But here in Rivendell, such things were not possible. Lord Elrond had given specific instructions that no one was to leave the Hidden Valley unless given express permission from himself. Everyone within the Valley was a friend, which was very frustrating because it meant I could not relieve any of the tension gathering in my body.

Perhaps the only thing keeping the Wolf from breaking lose were the envoys arriving in small groups two or so times a day, each one from a different city in Middle-Earth. The first was announced by a loud horn unlike any I had ever heard that echoed through the Valley. Having my short sword on me at all times out of habit, I had gone into a near frenzy, preparing for an attack. It had taken the Champion, Martin, and Lady Arwen nearly ten minutes to calm my pacing back and forth in the library before we could gather with the other residence of the House to welcome the new guests. They were elves from the forest city of Lothlórien, one of the many places I had read about with Arwen, who actually use to live there with her grandparents, the Lord and Lady. They were clad all in grey, with white silver hair. Soon after their coming, another elven party had arrived from the stone halls of the forest of Mirkwood. These elves were different, brooding, garbed in dark green and brown, their hair being shades of red or brown. This was the second Mirkwood envoy, I learned from Martin: an escort for the Prince of Mirkwood had arrived three days before my happening upon Middle-Earth.

That evening I found myself alone in the practice yard. With all the extra activities and merry-making, slipping away had been easier than normal. Those who had become closely acquainted with me knew that every evening I liked to be left alone, but a few still became suspicious.

Pacing a circle around the yard, shoulders hunched and muscles taut, eyeing the practice dummy, I flexed my sword hand around the short staff I held. Tonight I was focusing on expelling energy instead of honing skills. For about an hour I had been going at it, while the festivities were just reaching a peak in the Hall of Fire. The noise was an irritation and I worked on drowning it out. With a yell, I took a step and launched myself at the practice dummy with inhuman agility. For five minutes I beat and bashed the dummy relentlessly with stave and shield. The tell-tale cracking of wood sounded and the stave splintered and broke, leaving me grasping only a short piece of wood. Grumbling, I threw the piece off to the side with all the other pieces of broken wood that had accumulated over the course of the hour. Tossing my shield down as well, I sat down hard and lay back in the dirt and grass, relishing the coolness of the evening on my flushed skin. I had long since pulled off my tunic and undershirt, being now only in breast band and leather pants. The weather was still too hot for my liking, even with the breeze.

Covering my eyes with my forearm, I retreated into myself, focusing on my heart beat and breathing. The Wolf would be sated for now, but until I let her take over for a night she would be silent for a few hours at a time only after a near body breaking workout. Every night I pushed myself passed my physical abilities just for a few hours of sleep. She grumbled moodily in my mind, but I bypassed her and dug deeper. After what seemed like only a few seconds, I found what I was looking for. The quiet, wisp like entities in the furthest reaches of my mind. Paarthurnax had said these were the souls and power of the dragons I had killed in battle. The problem was I should be able to make contact with them still, since only their physical bodies had been destroyed. However, there was a sort of haze shrouding them, making it near imposable. Only part of their power and mine could be accessed. The old dragon voiced that the Wolf spirit was blocking the power and knowledge from being available to me, and if I were to somehow be purged of it, the power and strength I would have would be beyond what anyone has ever possessed.

Of course I could see what he was getting at: I should banish the Wolf. The problems with that are there is no known "cure" for lycanthropy, despite Kodlak's efforts, and I have lived with the Wolf for so long, would I even know how to live without her? And dying with the Wolf was my only chance to ever see Áskell again in Hircine's hunting grounds.

Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach and stretched out my shaking muscles till I felt them relax a little. Slowly I raised myself to my feet and breathed in a deep breath:

 _"HUN KAAL ZOOR!"_

A spiraling blue vortex appeared before me, and as it faded, an equally blue ethereal figure clad in armor and carrying a Nordic battle axe. Hakon One-Eye stood at the ready, whirling around looking for an attacking enemy. When he found none, a grumbling echo bounced around in the air.

"Yes, Dragonborn, how may I be of service to you this time?" Picking up my shield, I turned the legendary warrior and said "I am very sorry to call upon you again, Hakon, but I am in need of your battle skills in order to test mine for the night." The blue warrior glanced around, "It has only been a few minutes since you last called upon me, and again a few minutes before that. However, time is different in Sovngarde. I would be honored to test my skills against yours once again." With a nod of gratitude, I pulled my Skyforge steel short sword from its scabbard, lifting my shield. "Make ready, One-Eye!" I called out to him. Waiting just long enough for him to lift his battle axe again, I charged in. Throwing my shield up, I forced him to take a step back and throw his arms up, leaving his torso open. Lashing out, my sword glanced off Hakon's armored ribs. Bringing his axe back, he thrust the butt of the handle into my shoulder. To avoid a tumble, I pivoted with the blow and rolled vertically out of the way. "You should be wearing armor, Dragonborn! Don't want you returning to Sovngarde so soon." The warrior swung in a wide arc, which I side stepped. "It's too damn hot, and you're the only opponent I have for the time being. No need for armor." I goaded. I batted away another blow with my sword, letting the axe handle slide down the blade. One-Eye laughed, "Is that so? Even the best of heroes need armor."

The harmless banter and not so harmless fighting carried on for some minutes. My exhaustion and his experience kept us pretty well matched. There were a few opportunities where Hakon could have dispatched me, but these fights carried on till I could eventually send him back to Sovngarde. Finally, I cut open his left arm, causing him to falter, then back handed a sword blow across his throat. The warrior gasped. "Until next evening, Dragonborn." And dissolved into a blue-silver mist.

With a huff of my own, and fell to my knees, "same to you, One-Eye." Once my breath was caught, I threw on my sweaty, but cooled, undershirt and gathered up the rest of my things, heading back up to my room. Many Elves and guests were still singing and storytelling in the Hall of Fire. I was careful to slip past without catching any ones' attention. Once safely in my quarters, I dropped my gear at the foot of the bed and immediately began a bath. Despite popular belief, Nords are actually very clean and bathe regularly. We can't be going day to day with all the blood and gore we accumulate, now can we? Afterwards, crawling into bed, I prayed that I would be allowed a restful sleep.

Although the Wolf allowed a relatively quiet nights' sleep, I felt like I had just closed my eyes when morning dawned, and felt just as tired as ever. Just before noon, as the gusts and the members of the House were gathering for the mid-day meal, an envoy of dwarves from Erabor arrived at the gates with an Elven escort. Having never seen a dwarf before, I was one of the first down in the main court yard to greet them.

The Company was not how I envisioned a dwarf to look. In Tamriel the lost race is described as a people akin to mer, but smaller in stature and more aggressive. The Dwarves of Erabor are as much a race of mer as I am a daedric prince of Oblivion. Short, stout, broad shouldered, and beards to make even a Nord envious. Once over the shock of seeing my first dwarf, I took note of the Elven escort.

The two Elves were no doubt Lord Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir. When they spoke they told of how they came across the dwarves the day before, and since they were all heading to the Valley, decided to accompany them. A few of the dwarves snorted at this. While doing my studying with Arwen, many tomes had expressed a tension between the races, but only now could I really feel it in the air. Both races seemed so different seeing them side by side now, that there was no wonder. I knew there was more, but I honestly had no desire to dig that deeply into Middle-Earths histories.

After the excitement had peaked and the welcoming throng dispersed with the new arrivals off to the guest quarters, I wondered down to the stables. When I wasn't studying I was with Gunnolf, exploring the vastness of the Hidden Valley. The Lord twins, Lord Elrond, and Glorfindel entered the stables ahead of me. Not wanting to seem like an eavesdropper, I waiting a few moments before following inside.

The building was large and open, smelling of horses, hay, and leather. It was divided into four rows of stalls with three walkways running parallel. Gunnolf was housed in a back pen. Because of his size, he was unable to comfortably fit in a normal stall, so he received special treatment from the Stable Master, Éonor. The Elves were standing by the row farthest to the left. They spoke in Sindarin while the twins untacked and rubbed down their mounts.

I carried on down the middle path to the back where a continuous banging was sounding. I resisted the urge to cover my sensitive ears from the annoyance, "Gunnolf, _neid_!" I barked at the roan giant. He stopped kicking the door with a stomp, snorting and pinning his ears back in protest. "I am only a little late, don't get your tail in a twist." Grabbing just his bridle and his wool saddle blanket, I vaulted over the gate and began putting it on him. He stood quietly and accepted the bit. "Good boy." I praised, "I know things have been uneventful for you lately. Thank you for not eating Éonor out of spite." Gunnolf hummed softly deep in his chest. Folding the blanket in half, I threw it over his withers and back, cinching it in place with a long strip of leather with a brass buckle at the end as a make-shift bareback pad.

The war horse followed me out of the pen and down the aisle, his huge hooves thumping rhythmically with each step. As we reached the door, Lord Elrond, the twins, and Glorfindel met us. "I see the beast does listen to words," was Lord Elrond greeting, "poor Éonor has had to fix that gate twice, but Gunnolf insists on kicking it in." The statement was not a jibe; the elf's eyes were twinkling with mirth.

Greeting the four elves properly, I apologized, "He isn't use to being confined, my Lord, I was hoping daily rides would expend some of his energy. However, Gunnolf is built to plow people over, not going on pleasure rides." Hearing his name, Gunnolf thrust his toddler sized head into my back, making me almost face plant in the dirt. If I were completely human I would have, but with the Wolf strength (and the fact he knows I am the boss) I only had to put my hand on his chest and shove him back.

One of the twins laughed, a deep, musical sound, "Someone is impatient to be on his way!" Lord Elrond stepped off to the side, motioning to the twins, "Lady Ásleif, these are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir. They departed the Valley before you recovered." The two raven haired Elves bowed. I made a fist over my heart while taking a slow deep breath in to catalogue their respective scents away in my brain. "I understand that you patrolled down river after the Flood. What were your findings, if I may ask?"

As we walked out into the yard, they took turns telling me how they had traveled for many days till they had reached where the drowned horses carcasses had gathered. All nine horses were accounted for: the eight in the river, and the one I cut down. "And the riders?" I asked. Glorfindel answered, "Of them only sodden robes were found. They have fled back to their Master in defeat, but they will return."

I fiddled with a section of Gunnolf's mane, "Those who survive a fight more often than not come back stronger." I said furrowing my brow. Elrohir nodded, "That is what we fear as well." The mood between us became somber. Before the silence became awkward I asked, "My Lord Elrond, I am sure I know the partial answer to this, but just to be clear, why are there so many visitors to Rivendell? If the tension with the arrival of the dwarves means anything, this is not a normal gathering."

The corner of Lord Elrond's mouth turned up slightly, "Dwarves find us quite ridiculous, for the most part. And yes," he glanced around, lowering his voice, "there is to be a secret council to discuss what is to be done with the Ring. As I have told Gandalf: It cannot stay here." The Lord rearranged his robes, "However, we are still awaiting the arrival of the representative from Gondor. Whomever it may be, although I am expecting it to be one of the Stewards sons, should have arrived weeks ago." He furrowed his brow, "I am beginning to worry about what might have way-laid his journey."

Gunnolf had reached out his nose to Glofindel, who began to scratch a spot under the horse's chin, "It could be nothing to be concerned with. However, with the rising Darkness, evil things are a-foot." The golden-haired elf seemed distracted by Gunnolf's insistence for scratches. "He is a peculiar horse; built like a siege-engine." I couldn't stop the bark of laughter, "Gunnolf? He's tiny compared to a full blooded Nordic stallion. You see, I'm short by Nord standards, so I need a shorter horse. Still taller than most women in other races, but Nord women average just over six feet in height; I'm a few inches shorter. Nord men average over six and a half feet. Why, Farkas-" my throat tightened mentioning one of my shield siblings, "-Farkas is just shy of seven feet."

The twins' eyes widened, "You must come from a land of giants!" Elladan exclaimed. Lord Elrond and Glorfindel only smirked at this. Stepping back from the Elves, I held onto Gunnolf's reins and put my fist in his ribs a little forward from his stifle, making him pivot on his fore legs to stretch his muscles. "There are giants in Skyrim, actually," I answered, "they herd mammoths and roam the wilds of Skyrim. They are quite peaceful, if you keep your distance." Snorting, I changed Gunnolf's direction, "I don't like getting contracts that require me to kill a giant. You shouldn't be farming that far out in the plains if you don't want a giant to get your livestock." Shrugging, I had him take a few steps back, then bow his head till his muzzle touched the ground by pushing on his poll. "Back to the subject of horses, Gunnolf is a cross between a Nordic mare, known for their height, girth, and hardiness, and a Cyrodiilic stallion, known for their tall yet leaner build and smooth gait. Gunnolf is a good mix between the two, and suits my height just as well."

Standing at the stallion's shoulder, I pushed against the front of his knees with the scabbard of my sword. With a defensive snort, he reared up high on his hind legs, buffeting the air with his dinner plate sized front hooves, before slamming them back down to the earth. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was showing him off a bit. "But he'll plow down a line of bandits, soldiers, or whatever is in front of him once the battle blood gets pumping. He's trained for war, after all."

Without turning, I said, "Lindir must need to speak with you, Lord Elrond, he is coming down the courtyard in quite a hurry." All four Elves turned to the stairs to the House as the advisor appeared at the top, descending the steps in a hurry. "My Lord!" he huffed in exasperation, "the Dwarves are causing quite an upset in the kitchens. The won't leave, even when the cook asked them to. It's chaos in there!" The poor Elf looked as if a saber-cat had taken up residence in his bedroom. While the twins held back snorts of laughter, and Glorfindel had to cover a smile of amusement, Lord Elrond's features were stoic, "Our guests are hungry, Lindir, by all means feed them! When a hurricane comes through there is no use trying to stop it, only to prepare for the worse." The corners of his lips turned up slightly, "I will come with you to the kitchens, to reassure the cooks that all will be well." As he past, he bowed to me, "Lady Ásleif, if you will excuse me. Enjoy your ride." Touching the twins on the shoulders and motioning for Glorfindel to follow, I was left with his sons.

Once they had had ascended to the top of the stairs, the raven haired Elves almost rolled over in laughter, "Poor Lindir! He has his work cut out for him till the dwarves leave. I almost feel bad for him." Elrohir managed to say. Elladan nodded in agreement, "Aye, brother, for the dwarves' sakes, I hope they stay away from the fountains. Lindir was absolutely _livid_ when they used them as baths when a large group was here last."

I watched with a mixture of amusement and longing as the twins laughed at Lindir's misfortunes. A deep sadness filled the hole that was still in my heart. Before the pain could turn to anger, I swung myself with ease onto Gunnolf's back, tucking my feet behind his elbows. "I must be off if I am to be back for dinner, my Lords. One day soon we should ride together. A hunt perhaps."

They bowed, "Of course, and maybe a race." Elladan suggested. Elrohir nodded, "We would like to see just how fast the behemoth of yours can run!"

I managed to chuff out a laugh, "You would be surprised! Don't forget, Gunnolf managed to outstrip the Black Riders." Reining said horse to the gate that would lead to the forests surrounding the Last Homely House, I didn't wait to see the Elves expressions. Once across the narrow bridge past the main gates, I nudged Gunnolf into a trot on the stones, then a smooth canter once we reached the trees. The dirt paths of the Valley's forests were smooth and well worn, many accompanied by foot paths for those who wished to safely walk amongst the trees.

Soon the trees were on all sides, shielding us from the world. With another nudge of my heels and squeeze of my calves, Gunnolf began his slow gallop. The rhythmic rolling of his back was soothing, the tightening in my chest began to loosen at the beauty of it all, but my eyes stung with tears all the same. Seeing Elladan and Elrohir together awakened a jealousy inside me that had the Wolf whining in anger. For once, her anger did not become mine, rather, a deep longing and sadness was there. Our separate emotions clashed together in what became a horrible headache. "What is happening to me?" I whispered into Gunnolf's mane. There was no answer, only the Wolf tearing at the fabric of my mind.

No longer giving Gunnolf direction, I let him take his own head. Squeezing my arms and legs around him tighter, he galloped faster through the trees, illuminated by the waning light of the sun beginning its descent. Closing my eyes, I listened to the pounding of hooves and the distant roar of a waterfall. I felt our path reach a steady incline, and shifted to make Gunnolf's ascent easier. Soon it began to zig-zag upwards through the trees, and then leveled out.

Suddenly Gunnolf came to a jarring halt, almost sending me over his head. Looking around, I realized he had taken us to the edge of the Valley. We stood at the top of the incline, which ran down into open planes. The river Bruinen ran not too far ahead, the wide waters having slowed with the coming winter. I was overcome with the sudden urge to hunt. Dismounting, I walked a few paces ahead. "We aren't supposed to leave the Valley, Gunnolf." He walked up and touched his nose to my arm. The sun was almost swallowed by the horizon, and the full moon could already be seen high in the autumn sky. As I gazed at it, feeling the loss of the second moon that was in Nirn, the Wolf begged to be let loose for a night. _If I deny her now, especially at a full moon, the days to come will be more tense and dangerous for everyone._

Disobeying Lord Elrond's orders would be a huge disrespect to him as well as his House. But perhaps….

Turning nose to nose with Gunnolf, I said, "I can hunt tonight, and in the morning we will search for the delayed Gondorian that should have already arrived. I have a map of Middle-Earth practically etched into my brain, the path shouldn't be too difficult to follow." I stopped. "However, to suddenly disappear will raise alarm and suspicion…" Thinking carefully, I got an idea. Concentrating, I focused on one of the few non-destruction spells I knew. Purple mist in hand, I tried three times before it worked. A misty blue-purple wolf familiar stepped from the swirling vortex.

"I need you to deliver a message, can you do that?" Its misty ears perked up, "Alright, this message is to be delivered to Lord Elrond in private." The blue wolf dipped its snout. "You are to tell him the call of the Wolf Blood was too strong, but not to worry for anyone." I paused, "I will also set out to find the envoy from Gondor in the morning, and escort him to the Valley safely. Now go! Before you are sent back to Oblivion." With a yip, the familiar bounded back towards the Valley, illuminating the trees with its soft blue glow, before it disappeared from view.

I sat under the trees, leaning on Gunnolf who had lay down in the grass. "The Wolf knows you, but to be safe try to stay clear tonight, alright?" Scratching his ears, I watched the sun set till the darkness of night finally began to take hold, and the single moon shone brighter. The cool wind that blew down from the mountains and over the plains actually sent a shiver down my spine.

Standing and giving my companion a pat, I walked out towards the Bruinen, turning to look over my shoulder at Gunnolf. He still lay in the grass beneath the trees, just watching. I very rarely Changed alone, almost always having one of the Circle with me. Tonight I was a Lone Wolf.

The wolf armor was enchanted to change forms with its wearer, but tonight I did not wear it. The pants, boots, shirt, tunic, and doe skin vest I wore would tear like any normal garment once the Change took place. I waded across the river, its icy cold waters refreshing, and stripped once I reached the opposite bank. "No need to risk straying into the Valley tonight."

Standing naked under the light of the full moon, for the first time in weeks, I opened my mind to the Wolf fully. At first she was wary that I was tricking her. Then suddenly she pushed through into the forefront of my mind. Pain seared through my head, which soon leached into physical pain as she began to push forth her physical form. No matter how willing or how ready I was for this stage, the pain was always horrible.

Joints popped and cracked, limbs stretched and skin pulled tight over muscles that bulged underneath. I could feel the awful pinching of my face as it morphed into a snout, my teeth being pushed out in place of over-sized fangs and sharp molars. Pitching forward into the dirt, I caught a glimpse of the claws that had replaced my nails, before I was pushed to the back of my own mind.

* * *

"Forgive me for my earlier trepidations, my Lady, but you must understand the strangeness of the situation I found myself in."

The night before had shown me a painful, yet a somewhat liberating transformation. I remembered none of it because the Wolf had complete control after being locked away for so long, but I had awakened not too far from the Bruinen, and followed it back to the Ford where my clothes were waiting for me. After a quick bath, I redressed and tracked down Gunnolf. Once mounted up, we had followed the trail that lead east and would eventually dip south. After nearly the whole morning of searching, we found the man in question, hiding amongst the brush and trees.

Hiding was no use, I had smelled him almost half a mile up the road. "Are you from Gondor?" I had called to him from the road. "That would depend on who is asking, traveler." I rolled my eyes. The White Tree on his worn yet fine leather jerkin was enough to tell anyone where he was from. "A guest of Lord Elrond's House in the Hidden Valley. Your arrival is much anticipated, my Lord, but you are very late."

I snorted, thinking of the early exchange of words. I learned his name was Boromir, the first son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. Boromir lost his horse crossing the Enedwaith, and had continued the journey to Rivendell on foot. Now we both rode Gunnolf, him sitting behind me, making our way down into the Valley.

"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Boromir. You were only being cautious in these Darkening times. Perhaps it is a little strange that I would search for you without a proper saddle, or supplies, the truth of it being I hadn't intended to leave the Valley when I set out for a ride yesterday. I had recalled an earlier conversation with Lord Elrond regarding the fact that you had not made it to the Valley, and decided I would go looking for you."

Although I could not see his face, I could feel his surprise. "You mean to say no one knows you have left?" I smirked, "Oh, they know by now, but I had sent a message beforehand explaining where I was going. Do not fret, we are almost there."

Sure enough, we rounded a bend and the path turned to cobble stones. A horn sounded ahead in the distance. A few moments later, we trotted across the narrow bridge into the main courtyard. Many people had already begun to fill the balconies overlooking the yard, as well as the stairs leading up into the House. Now that we were back, I was growing nervous to face Lord Elrond.

Guiding Gunnolf to a halt, I allowed Boromir to dismount before following suit. I was exhausted, the activities of the previous night taking its toll on my body. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and sleep for a hundred years. The Gondorian looked haggard from his journey, his fine cloak weathered and stained from the long weeks on the road.

Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, Lindir, and Lord Erestor awaited us at the foot of the steps. "Welcome to Rivendell, Boromir son of Denethor, we were worried what might have befallen you on the road. It is good to see you have made it here safely." Boromir bowed his head. "I lost my horse at the crossing of the Enedwaith, my Lord Elrond, and was forced to travel on foot. I was perhaps two or three days from the Valley when Lady Wolfborn came upon me on the road. I am very thankful she did, I was growing sick of walking."

As they talked, I caught Glorfindel's eye. He raised a golden eyebrow and I just shrugged. Once Lindir took Boromir into the House to show him his quarters, everyone dispersed. Having the decency to feel a little humbled, I approached the three Elves still standing there, Gunnolf following close behind me. "My Lord, I did not mean to disobey your orders, however, I found myself at the edge of the Valley, and the Blood at that point was strong." I paused, "It was safer for everyone if I didn't ignore it."

Lord Elrond didn't respond for a moment, "While I wish you had not endangered yourself by leaving the Hidden Valley alone, I will admit you know the nature of your condition better than any of us here. It has not gone unnoticed that you have been growing agitated as of late."

I bowed my head, "Thank you, and I am sorry, truly. I trust you received my message?" Erestor answered this with a laugh, "I had to sit with that creature in Elrond's study while Glorfindel went and retrieved him from the kitchens. It refused to move from its spot till it had spoken to him." Glorfindel smirked, "Even more alarming was after it had relayed your message, it just keeled over and disappeared in a cloud of electricity."

Shrugging, I said, "I have only seen a familiar used to deliver a message once before, that was my first attempt. I am relieved that it worked, however, familiars do not have a long life span on this plane of existence."

After a few moments more of conversation, I excused myself to the stables. I had Gunnolf untacked, brushed, fed and watered before putting him up in his pen. With a pat and a kiss, I myself went back up into the House. It was late afternoon, but I made straight for my rooms for an early night.

Once there, I didn't even bother to change. I was about to fall onto my bed but was startled by something that should not have been there.

The cat from the garden, the one that had blown me off, the one that Pippen had tried so hard to woo with pieces of bacon, was stretched across the blankets in a patch of sun. He was so large, his front paws touched one side of the mattress, and his back paws were only a foot or two from the opposite side. Once over my shock, I put my hands on my hips, "Excuse me, sir?" The feline must have been in a deep sleep because he startled and rolled on his stomach to look at me as if to say "What?"

I motioned at him, "You're in my bed and there is no room for me!" Not caring, he rolled on his other side and closed his eyes, purring loudly. Finally, I crawled on the bed next to him, kicking off my boots and laying back into the pillows. A few moments later, the great fluffy cat curled up into my side.

As I drifted off into sleep, my hand resting on his side, I allowed myself a smile.

* * *

 _Holy crap I finally finished it. It has been a terrible past three weeks or so and I haven't really been up to writing. From this point on the story will be moving on at a faster pace other wise we will all be stuck in Rivendell for like, 100 more chapters. Do not fret, the real fun starts soon. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with the story so far, you are the best._

 _As always, please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

The next day dawned with me feeling well rested and calmer. After a long refreshing bath, I joined the Hobbits for breakfast. Frodo and Bilbo were to join the Secret Council around lunch time in the outside meeting area of Lord Elrond's study. Sam, Merry, Pippin and I were not invited, understandably, so I had convinced the Hobbits to spend the afternoon with me puttering about Rivendell. "That fluffy cat is currently sleeping on my bed. If it please you, Master Pippin, I am sure I can convince him to join in our wanderings of the Valley." The young hobbit was quick to oblige.

Breakfast consisted of bacon, sausage, eggs, sliced apples with honey, and toast and marmalade. It was a lighter meal than usual for we opted to eat in a private sitting room in the Wing where our rooms were. Merry had asked the cooks before-hand and the kitchen had the table set as we were gathering. Frodo was quieter than normal, no doubt thinking of the Council that was to come. He kept fiddling with the Ring on the chain under his shirt, which he often did. It was now his nervous tick.

"Here." I said, handing Frodo my cup, "Drink a few sips of that and you'll feel better." Taking the cup, he looked at its contents. "What is it?" he asked. "Mead infused with snowberries," I clarified, "perfect balance of sweet and tart. This batch was made with a lower alcohol content for the purpose of drinking with breakfast. My shield-brother Vilkas took up the hobby about a year ago." Giving the cup a sniff, Frodo took a sip, made a face, then took another. "It isn't bad. Sweeter than ale but not as fruity as wine." He took a few more sips, then handed it to Sam to try, and around the table it went. Once it got back to me, Frodo let out I sigh, "I do feel calmer, thank you, my Lady."

Breakfast went on a little while longer. The cat smelled the food and came to join us, much to Pippin's delight. Soon we were on our way down to the gardens surrounding the main House. A few trees provided shade and a cool breeze swept continuously through the Valley. Bilbo had gone off to have his after-breakfast nap before the Council was held. While Merry and Pippen raced to see who could climb a tree the fastest, Sam educated me on the different plants that were growing in the garden. "Although I know all the ones in this bed, I have absolutely no clue as to what this is here." He said, pointing to a fiery patch of flowers. Stepping closer, I immediately recognized the plant, "That, Master Samwise, is dragon's tongue, a winter-born flower native to my home province of Skyrim. There it blooms all year round, but it only blooms in other provinces in their coldest regions while in the warmer ones, only in the winter. Some provinces, such as Hammerfell, Elsweyr, and the Summerset Isles, dragon's tongue doesn't even grow because it is too hot." Sam looked at the flowers in awe. "Then what is it doing here, if it as a plant of your world?"

"Perhaps Lord Martin will be able to answer that for us, he is coming now." I said, turning to watch the Imperial approach. He looked more tired than usual, his wrinkles of old age deeper. His grayed hair was a little ruffled, but his finer clothes of burgundy cloth and gold trimming fit well and were properly ironed. "Good morning, Lady Ásleif, how are you this morning?" the humble emperor greeted. "Better," I answered, "I had a good night sleep for once." He greeted Sam and Frodo in the same fashion. "Were you inquiring about the dragon's tongue? I planted it for my dear Ásleif after I came here." He knelt and cut a few stems off delicately with a knife on his belt. "I thought I would never see her again. They are her favorite flower. I came here with virtually nothing except the clothes I was wearing, and a little wilted flower." Martin suddenly seemed to be worlds away as he delicately touched the yellow-orange petals of the flowers in his hand. "She had tucked it into my coat before we departed Cloud-Ruler Temple for the Imperial City." He smiled, "The first token of my affection I had ever given her was a dragon's tongue flower." He then sighed deeply, "After my battle with Mehrunes Dagon, and my disappearance from Tamriel to Middle-Earth, I was broken and depressed, having left my dearest love in a world that needed to be rebuilt. She would no doubt believe I was dead and gone, as would the entire world. To suddenly leave with no warning…. it crippled both of us. She thought I was dead and I couldn't tell her I was safe. This little patch of flowers, and my music, were my only solaces."

My heart clenched in my chest. Though not quite the same, I knew back in Tamriel, the Companions were wondering what had happened to me. Suddenly Martin was back and aware of his audience, "I am terribly sorry, please forgive me. Ásleif is not feeling well today, I came down here to bring her fresh flowers for the vase she has in our entrance room." I furrowed my brow in concern, "Is she well? I hope it is nothing serious." Martin chuckled, "Only ailments brought on by old age, Dragonborn. The Daedra-slayer and I are by no means young any more. Even though I am older than her and still have many years ahead of me naturally from my education as a mage and knowledge of magic, Ásleif's body and mind took a toll during the Oblivion Crisis. Today it is just a headache and joint pain, luckily."

Slipping his knife back into his bet, Martin added, "I also bring a message from Lord Elrond, he is attending to some paper work at the moment, otherwise he would have come himself. He requests your presence at the Council today, Lady Ásleif. I will be there as well, providing insight into darker magics that may help." Surprised, it took me a second to answer, "If he believes I could be of some help, I will gladly attend. Is there anything I would do to prepare?" I asked.

"Come well dressed without weapons, that is all that is asked. You and I will represent Tamriel with each of us having different fields of knowledge-" he was cut short by two large thuds that were Merry and Pippen practically rocketing themselves out of the tree they had climbed, "What?" Pippin asked, dismayed, "You're going too?" Merry was equally as disappointed, "You're just going to leave us with Sam while you go off to a secret meeting?" I blinked a few times, amused by their outcry, "Yes to all three questions, my dears, I'm afraid. But I am certain Sam will be good company." After some huffing and puffing from the three Hobbits, they seemed to come to terms with being uninvited.

Martin smiled broadly, "Honestly it is probably going to be a lot of arguing and indecisiveness, hopefully there will be a decision before afternoon tea." The mage then snorted, "However, I wouldn't count on it. There will be much tension in the air." Nodding in agreement, I turned to Pippin, "It is probably going to be quite boring, actually, and I will wager that there won't even be any snacks. And of course, we will fill you in on the meeting later." I gave them a wolfish grin, "Even if we technically aren't supposed to." Pippin sighed dramatically and Merry clapped him on the shoulder, "We'll be alright, won't we Pip? We will wait patiently for every one's return." Frodo laughed, "I am glad to hear that, cousin."

Sam wasn't happy about leaving Frodo's side for a few hours, he was still looking glum when I left with Martin to go back to the House. Upon reaching the main hall, we parted ways. I went to change for the Council and he went to give his wife her flowers before heading to Lord Elrond's council hall.

Once in my rooms, I allowed myself a little panic. Something nice? I hadn't had to dress up in a while, not including when I had to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy. A dress was out of the question. I was representing the people of Skyrim, the Companions, and my might as the Dragonborn. If I had the traditional Nordic attire, perhaps, but no elven gown of Rivendell would do. Grabbing my saddle bags and my pack, I tossed them on the bed and emptied their contents.

One saddle bag had my Wolf armor and a spare tunic and shirt, while my pack held a few potions, soaps, dried meat, fish and fruit, my last three bottles of Vilkas' snowberry mead, and an odd assortment of things I had picked up in my travels. My second saddle bag contained various articles of clothing. As I pulled things out of the leather bag, I realized all might not be lost. I had forgotten I had packed more "casual" city dweller clothing. I had a red linin shirt with a split collar trimmed in green, a thin grey wrap-coat with thick blue edging, a nice brown belt with a large rectangular bronze buckle, and an extra pair of leg wraps that weren't full of holes. A random pick of camping gear settled at the bottom of the bag, which I didn't bother to take out.

Stripping down to my pants and boots, I threw on a clean shirt, the red tunic, the wrap-coat, and the belt. Forgoing the leg wraps for the sake of not over-heating more than I was already going to, I went to the looking glass and studied my reflection. I could have passed for a lower ranking noble. My golden-amber eyes glinted in the glass, staring eerily back at me, irises leaving no whites of the eyes to be seen. They were unsettling, not to me, but to pretty much anyone who was not acquainted with a Beast. All werewolves had those eyes, though few people recognized what they mean. Tamriel was full of so many creatures and strange things that people were usually too afraid to mention it. The Wolf was taking a nap, still satisfied by yesterday's hunt. My mind was unusually calm. It wondered to thoughts of Jorrvaskr, my shield siblings and friends. I missed them, and Paarthurnax. He was my mentor, my teacher, my friend, and my brother. I loved him as family, as I do all of them, for I had no blood family left alive. Mama, papa, Áskell…. all dead.

Before I could wonder down that dark road any further, I grabbed the brush off the vanity and began to furiously tug at my long hair. Without really planning, I sectioned it out and started twisting and braiding it, pulling it out of my face and securing it to my scalp. When I was satisfied, the dark blond curls were braided back to cascade down my spine. I hadn't done this in a long time, but the occasion called for a little more effort.

Before leaving my quarters, I grabbed my amulet of Talos and secured it around my neck. _"Wear_ _it proudly, but be careful,"_ my father had said almost every day, _"I don't know what I will do if the Thalmor drag off my little girl."_

"I'm not so little any more, papa." I whispered. For the first time, I made sure to wear the amulet on the outside of my jacket.

* * *

We had been sitting in the Council of Elrond for hours. Each group representing a city, kingdom, or race went around catching everyone up with what was going on in their corner of the world. They all had similar details: ambassadors offering bribes for loyalty to Sauron, agents of darkness being seen in places they had no business being, increased goblin activity in the mountains, and the whole of Middle-Earth in a state of unrest.

An elf whom I understood to be the Prince of Mirkwood stood and informed the Council of what he had already told Lord Elrond and Lord Aragorn, as well as the wizard Gandalf; the creature Gollum, once a bearer of the ring, had escaped from their custody. There was much murmuring around the Council, including something about the "incompetence of elves" from the dwarves. The Mirkwood group looked about ready to kill.

Lord Elrond broke the tension by speaking loudly, "It is clear to all that are gathered here now, that the forces of evil are moving and gaining power and influence. We must act before Sauron the Deceiver can actively move against us." The powerful elf's gaze slowly swept around the room, seeming to make eye contact with every person in attendance. "We, the free peoples of Middle-Earth, do have one advantage over this growing Shadow." Everyone was still. Even the trees above did not sway in the breeze. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." The elf Lord motioned Frodo to a large stone pedestal that came up almost over the hobbit's head. Martin sat on my left side, and Frodo sat one chair over to my right, Gandalf sitting between us, with Bilbo on Frodo's right. I had met Gandalf the day after I came to in the Valley. He had me recap the flight to the ford again, and asked about other details to my coming about Middle-Earth, and I had disclosed to him my "condition" as a request from Lord Elrond.

Almost directly across from me sat a dark-haired man who had introduced himself as Aragorn son of Arathorn, and adopted son of Lord Elrond, the same day I met the hobbits. He was the man I had seen with Arwen in the gardens the morning of that day. Aragorn had been at the Ford with Glorfindel. After a moment, I had remembered him as the man who tried to hold Gunnolf on the river bank.

Frodo stood slowly from his chair, all eyes on him. Even sitting, most everyone was taller than the poor hobbit who fell under their scrutiny. Warily, he stepped up to the stone pedestal, pulling something from his pocket. On a gold chain dangled a shiny gold ring I had never actually laid eyes on.

Energy thrummed through my body. My senses zeroed in on the trinket being placed on the stone surface, my eye sight sharpened yet funneled, blurring out most everything in my peripheral. Sound met my ears as if they were filled with cotton, muffled and inaudible.

But…. I did hear something. A deep, echoing voice whispered in my ear in another language. Yet, I knew what it said; promises of vengeance, blood, and death. The ring would help me, it said.

All I had to do was take it.

* * *

 _I am back, it would seem. This chapter isn't fantastic but it does what I need it to do. As always, pleeaase review, I love hearing from my readers! I have four more stories planned out, two of them prequels to_ A Dragon's Demons, _a cookie for the person who can guess (or closely guess) what those two may be about (: Thank you for reading!_

 _-BronzeWolf_


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 7 Recap:_

 _Energy thrummed through my body. My senses zeroed in on the trinket being placed on the stone surface, my eye-sight sharpened yet funneled, blurring out most everything in my peripheral. Sound met my ears as if they were filled with cotton, muffled and inaudible._

 _But…. I did hear something. A deep, echoing voice whispered in my ear in another language. Yet, I knew what it said; promises of vengeance, blood, and death. The ring would help me, it said._

 _All I had to do was take it._

Someone had stood up and was speaking, but I could not hear them. I didn't care to, didn't want to. All that mattered was this ring could _help_ me.

 _Take it...take it...take it…._

* * *

I was suddenly snapped out of my trance by a strong hand gripping my arm tightly. Gandalf had taken hold of my right arm, his grip startlingly strong for an elderly man. The grey wizard's gaze was fixed sharply on me, saying a hundred words and radiating a thousand warnings with just his deep, piercing blue eyes. I blinked, the whispering in my ear fading out as I returned to the Council chamber. Aragorn was speaking to the man who had stood, the tone of his voice imploring.

"You cannot wield it, none of us can! The ring answers to Sauron and Sauron alone; it has no other master."

The other, who happened to be Boromir, looked shocked, then marginally insulted. He began to speak again, but I didn't pick up his words other than they had a mocking inflection. Gandalf's fingers had tightened on my arm, my attention brought back to him. I considered his gaze again. His eyes had softened, sharpness replaced with concern. I hadn't realized I had been trembling slightly, a cold sweat having broken out on my brow. A bead of moisture rolled down my temple and along my cheek.

I locked eyes with the wizard a heartbeat longer before I nodded, relaxing my tense muscles. He patted my hand reassuringly, turning his attention back to the Council. Things were beginning to become more heated. A yellow-blond haired elf in silvery grey robes had joined in with Aragorn against Boromir. The Ranger calmed the elf's rising edginess with a few words in Sindarin. With the familiarity in the way he spoke, there was little doubt there was a bond between them.

The elf snorted, his eyes still narrowed at Boromir, who looked at him with contempt. Both man and elf sat gingerly back in their seats, the air noticeably thick.

Lord Elrond dispelled the silence, "As Lord Aragorn has said, the ring cannot be used, so what are we to do with the weapon of the enemy?"

Many people shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to be the ones to suggest anything. A dwarf with a red beard cleared his throat. His voice was gruff and heavy with an accent. "It must be hidden. Taken far away, out of reach. If he cannot find the ring, he cannot use it."

A few dwarves and men nodded in agreement, while many elves shook their heads and mumbled to each other. Boromir just huffed, looking all-around pissed with the proposition being made. I snorted, remembering the last time I was in a Council that took a turn like this. None of the Stormcloak or Imperial representatives could agree on anything.

"I do not believe that is an option, Gimli son of Glóin. I will not allow such evil to remain in Rivendell; it had already been here too long." Lord Elrond said firmly. "I also do not believe the dwarves will allow such a thing into their mountain strongholds. No, hiding it away is not an option."

Taking a deep breath to prepare my lungs and nerves, I said with a clear strong voice, "Then our decision should be quite clear, shouldn't it?" All eyes were suddenly on me, many curious, a few annoyed eye rolls from long-bearded men, both Elrond's and Aragorn's faces encouraging. I lingered on the yellow-blond elf the longest; his gaze was overly intrigued.

Clearing my throat softly, I stated bluntly, "Well, the only other option is to destroy the Ring. It only makes sense—"

"Destroy it?" My head snapped to Boromir, who had sat up in his seat again. The Gondorian looking absolutely appalled. "You would have us destroy the very thing giving us an advantage over the enemy? Sauron's source of power?"

I blinked at the man for a moment, slightly stunned by the aggression he directed towards me. Leaning forward, elbow on the arm of my chair, I glared intently into Boromir's green eyes. The Wolf was awake and growling, not happy at all with the man who spoke against us. The Gondorian began to shift in his seat, having difficulty keeping my yellow gaze.

"Yes, Boromir son of Denethor, that is _exactly_ what I would have us do." I sat up straighter in my chair, ready to tear into the man. "This is not just a ring, nor is it a weapon. A weapon is used to the will of the person wielding it, like a sword or a spear. This 'ring' as it appears, is a conduit of _power_. The One Ring, in a sense, is an enemy." I paused for dramatic effect. "This ring is a part of Sauron's power. It is not a weapon because it only answers to him; because it is a part of him. Using it, he draws those who will support him with promises of power and fulfilled wants, only to corrupt them and be dependent on him for everything they are.

"Look at the Wraiths! Once great kings of men. Sauron the _Deceiver,_ Sauron the _Seducer,_ gave them rings and promised them unimaginable power. Using his own One Ring, he over-powered and bent their wills to serve him for long as he lives."

I took a breath, standing from my chair, "No, this "weapon" cannot be used by us, we would be playing right into Sauron's hand. The Ring wants to be found by its Master, the Ring in a sense _is_ Sauron, so using it is out of the question."

Gandalf leaned forward, elbows on his knees, pipe in hand. "How have you become so well versed in the lore of the One Ring?" He had a twinkle in his eye.

I met his eyes briefly, "I have been doing a lot of reading while I have been here, Gandalf, and have talked with Lord Elrond extensively." I nodded respectfully to the Lord of Rivendell. Continuing, I began to slowly make my way to the stone pedestal the Ring lay upon. "We clearly cannot house it, store it, or hide it away. Not one person here wishes to have it amongst their people; the Ring is a spy, it calls out to its Master, like a beacon. The Nine didn't find it on well-placed interrogations and rumors alone." I saw Frodo shudder and grip his shoulder out of the corner of my eye. "And even if someone were to hide it, it's only a matter of time before Sauron's forces move against all the peoples of Middle-Earth that do not pledge their allegiance.

"So, back we are to my original point," Spinning to fix Boromir with a look, I now stood at the pedestal, "we destroy it."

The man who was quickly beginning to annoy me made to protest, "My people have fought and died keeping the enemy at bay. Your lands are kept safe by the blood of Gondor!" He swept his gaze around the circle of Council members. Anger boiled up in my chest, the wolf snarled, and I fought my features to not do the same. I kept my bearing. "We cannot possibly use it and we cannot hide it from Him, there is no other option.

"Even now, it whispers to me; promising me vengeance and blood for all I have suffered. But I know they are false promises, playing me for a weak-minded fool." The Gondorian was stunned, but I continued, "I know how you must feel. You're people have fought and died for centuries against the evil of Mordor. I too once stood as the guardian of my people, my precious Skyrim and all of Tamriel against an ancient evil that threatened to raze all I love to the ground! And still, after all my efforts, my sacrifices, watching the people languish in fear and pain and suffering, war still tears her apart! And I have been offered little recognition, no thanks, no badges of honor. People still died, homes burnt, fortresses felled, armies still march across her blooded soil. The Ring promises me justice, a tongue shriller than all the music calls to me. What has it promised you, Boromir son of Denethor?"

The man's eyes were wide with a spark of something I knew very _very_ well: fear. "There is no magic fix for the woes of the world, my friend, no matter how hard we wish it were so."

There was an uncomfortable heavy silence settling over the council. The sound of my boots as I walked slowly back to my seat was the only thing that broke the dead air. Not even a breeze blew through the open chamber. Upon sitting, I found myself gripping Martin's arm; something to keep me grounded.

The silence stretched. People shifted uncomfortably. Lord Elrond spoke, "What you have said, Lady Ásleif, is undeniable. The Ring must be destroyed. However, that is no easy task.

"The Ring must be taken into Mordor and thrown back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. Only then can it be undone." The elf's slanted gaze touched on everyone in the Council chamber. "One of you must do this."

Another pause. I was starting to get tired of all the pockets of silence when Bilbo stood, "Alright, alright, I'll be the one to say it. Bilbo was the one to get us into this mess, now Bilbo must be the one to fix it. If that is what the Council wishes, I shall do my best." I couldn't help but smile at the old Hobbit, bless his soul. Apparently, Lord Elrond couldn't help it either.

"The Council does not wish that of you, Master Baggins. Your days of being the one to carry the Ring have long since come to an end. It is time for a new Bearer." Bilbo sat back down with a resigning huff. Frodo lay a comforting hand on his uncle's.

Boromir began to speak again, mumbling quietly, "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever watchful." Frodo trembled, his eyes fixed on Boromir, who continued woefully, "It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume." The man began shaking his head. "Not with ten thousand men could you do this, it is folly—"

The yellow-blond elf jumped from his seat again, his eyes ablaze, "Have you heard _nothing_ the Warrior or Lord Elrond have said? The ring _must_ be destroyed!"

Gimli the red-bearded dwarf jumped in as well, directing his venom toward the elf. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" The elf glared daggers at the dwarf, but Boromir interjected before the blond can spit back, "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" The tall man is standing now. Gimli follows suit, pushing himself out of his seat a tad too high for his legs, "I will be _dead_ before I see the Ring in the hands of an _elf_!"

Chaos ensued as both elves and dwarves jumped from their chairs, yelling insults and slanders. The few men, including Boromir, join in. Gandalf was up from his seat as well.

Martin and I remained seated, not quite sure what in Oblivion to do. I glanced at the Imperial, then Lord Elrond. The raven-haired elf had his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. Elladan and Elrohir on either side of the Lord, were up at arms with the rest of the council. Seeing them angry was unpleasant. I turned my attention back to Martin, who just looked at me and sighed, patting the hand I still had on his arm. "We'll allow them to finish, shouldn't take long—"

"I will take it!" I heard Frodo's soft yet firm voice over the din of the arguing, but it seemed no one else had. I met Frodo's eye and nodded my encouragement. The hobbits face set, "I will take it!"

Gandalf and the others quieted, slowly turning. Frodo looked as if he wanted to hide behind his uncle, but the look was fleeting, his features changing to determination. "Though, I do not know the way."

Martin sighed, hanging his head. Gandalf stepped up, offering to travel with Frodo. Aragorn, the blond elf, and Gimli next offered their services. To my great surprise, Boromir stepped up slowly, offering his sword in an off handed way.

 _What is his deal? I think I have seen three different sides to him since I dug him out of that mud puddle._ The Wolf snorted in agreement.

My attention was snapped to a shout from behind a large decorative bush at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the Council room. Sam came dashing across the room, grabbing Frodo by the arm and standing firmly at his side. "Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!" he declared.

Before I could chide myself for not picking up on the council-stowaway, or even pick up on what the now grinning Elrond was saying, I pinpointed two more familiar scents in the air that I knew shouldn't have been there. Looking up the steps to Lord Elrond's private quarters. Behind another bunch of bushes and flowers, I met the eyes of Merry, which immediately widened as he attempted to shrink back into the bush next to Pippin.

I raised a brow and gave them a mirthful smirk, jabbing my head in the direction of the growing company. They hesitated, then sprang down the steps to join their two friends. "We're coming too!"

Lord Elrond looked a little scandalized at the fact his "secret council" had so many eves-droppers. Nonetheless, he stood up straight and proud, turning his gaze to mine. Gandalf glanced over as well, both asking with naught but their eyes.

 _Should I join them? My skill sets could be useful. It'll be dangerous, they may need me…..._

 _No._ I though firmly. _I'm done saving the world. This isn't my world any-how. I will not intrude on matters that are not my concern any longer. I've over stepped my interests already._

I shook my head firmly at both elf and wizard. Lord Elrond nodded his acceptance, but Gandalf's gaze lingered uncomfortably long before his attention deterred back to the elf lord.

 _I've made the right choice.._.

* * *

A month had passed since the Council of Elrond, the days having gone into Evening Star. My decision not to join the Fellowship didn't mean I didn't intend to do my part. Now, I was fully armored, mud to my knees and splattered up my cloak, mounted up on Gunnolf.

After the Council had adjourned, the Nine Walkers of the Fellowship were called to Elrond's study. Elladan, Elrohir, Martin and I had been asked to join. A map of Middle-Earth had been pulled out, and the outline of a path and a plan had begun to form. Gandalf suggested a scouting party go ahead and follow the path the Fellowship wished to take up through Hollin to the mountains, to ensure their road was clear for the first leg of their journey.

Of course Elladan, Elrohir, and I volunteered immediately. We prepared for three days, then set out before dawn on the fourth.

We traveled together, only splitting off occasionally to scout off-road in different directions, meeting up a day or so later at a rendezvous point. In the weeks we were in the wilds, we came across small bands of goblins or orcs here and there. They were easily dispatched.

The twins were ferocious in battle, something I wouldn't have liked to be on the receiving end of. I could easily over-power both with wolf and dragon, but on a test of battle skills alone, it would be a tough fight.

I had gone through the Change twice over the course of the month. The traveling and orc-hunting kept the Wolf on her toes. When I began to get too aggressive, even beginning to snap at the twins, I knew I needed to give into the Blood. These Changes were the loneliest I had felt in a while. With no pack-mates to hunt with, I spent those nights alone, sorrowful howls filling the fog and starlight. Unlike my first Change in Middle-Earth, I could see and hear everything the Wolf came across, just like she did when she is hidden in my mind. I feel her anxieties, her fear and anger. Wolves are pack animals, we need our pack…

Elladan and I had met up at the rendezvous point, the last one before we make the long trip back to the Hidden Valley. We are deep into Hollin, the Mountains rising high above us to the East and South East.

"Where is your brother?" I growled, reins-in-hand resting on the front of my saddle. "He should have been here by now."

The elf Lord shrugged, "Elrohir will be here. He probably got distracted by something. You may not have noticed, but my brother is quite scatterbrained."

I snorted, turning away from the raven haired elf to look out into the forest. We were atop the crest of a hill in the sea of holly trees. From this point, we were still hidden but able to survey the immediate area. Afternoon was waning into evening, the sky turning shades of pink and orange, tendrils of purple streaking across the darkening sky. A cool breeze of winter blew down from the mountains, shuffling the leaves and foliage of the forest. Creatures of the night would be roused by the symphony of crickets and the screaming of cicadas.

"You think we'll run into any goblin parties tonight?" I asked Elladan, watching his expression from the corner of my eye. He shrugged, features not betraying his thoughts. "I always love a good fight, and a chance to slaughter those wretched creatures, but…" the elf sighed, "I yearn for the comfort of my father's house. For home. Because of this I pray to the Valor my brother hurries his arse up so we can be on our way."

I shifted in my saddle, choosing not to address the fact he did not answer my question. The idea of a proper bath and a warm bed, along with a table full of hot food made me want to return to Rivendell. These thoughts wondered to the comforts the hall of Jorrvaskr had to offer, and I find myself aching for _my_ home, far far away from this place. Its rustic roaring fires, roast meats and the best cheeses from all over Skyrim adorning the ancient tables. Roars of laughter, fist fights, stories of contracts as well as ancient tales. Surrounded by friends. Comrades. Brothers and Sisters. All family.

I missed my family. _We_ missed _our_ family.

My mind was snapped back from its wandering by the faint sound of horses hooves on fallen leaves. Elladan didn't show any signs he had heard. "I think Elrohir has finally graced us with presence." I nodded my head in the direction of the hoof steps.

Elrohir emerged from the shadow of the trees a moment later, his black mount letting out huffs of breath with every step his front hooves made to climb to the crest of the hill. As he drew closer, the scent of blood invaded her nostrils. "What the hell happened?"

The newly arrived twin drew his stallion to a halt next to his waiting companions. "I had a run in with a few goblins in a squabble over an old bear carcass." I tried not to breathe too deeply. "Well, you stink." I stated flatly. "Is it safe to assume none of that mess is yours?"

Elladan laughed, "Is that your way of asking Ro if he is alright? It's very amusing."

Elrohir let out a soft chuckle, "Yes, I am alright, ready to leave, in fact. I think I got a bit soft staying in the Valley for so long."

I rolled my eyes, glancing around the darkening trees, "Well, don't show your soft belly yet, we need to get back to the road. If you found a goblins, there may be more. And chances are they will know these woods better than we do."

Turning Gunnolf's head, I lead us down the opposite side of the hill to where we would find what was left of the old road. Darkness had begun to settle more snuggly over the trees, shadows deepening till they were only pools of black extending across the ground.

The horses hooves clip clopped rather softly on the worn stone road. Years of neglect had allowed the stones to sink into the earth, moss and weeds growing up and over the edges. Most of the road had actually been swept away by time, the wilderness taking back what once was hers.

As the sun set and the trees blocked much of the light of the moon, I cast a mage light to hover around us as we traveled East. I had been up since the early morning hours, wanting to cover as much ground as possible before having to meet the twins. I hadn't been this far away from civilization for so long. There were always a small farming village or some obscure town to come across in Skyrim. The wilderness stretched open and untouched, but never more than a week or so between pockets of population. Middle Earth was vast, harboring many secrets, lands, creatures and people. We covered but a fraction of it.

The night waned on, the horses hoof falls beginning to fumble. I was growing weary as well. The twins, however, seemed grim and alert, but not showing any signs of tiredness. Nevertheless, it was Elrohir who called our party to a halt.

"The horses need to rest for a few hours, I believe it is wise for us to break for the night as well." the elf advised.

"That's the most intelligent thing you have said in a while, Ro." his brother quipped playfully.

Having already turned Gunnolf off the road, I snorted, "Perhaps so, Dan, but you both need to keep it down. The air smells off."

They both immediately quieted, heads turning slightly every which way to listen. We made it down into the trees, finding a relatively high spot out of sight from the road. I dismounted, stretching my legs to get the blood flowing back to them. The twins followed suit, dismounting their black stallions with grace even I in my most rested state wouldn't be able to accomplish.

"Do you think we need a fire tonight? It'll be getting colder soon." I asked, pulling my packs and bedroll from Gunnolf's saddle. Elladan looked around appraisingly. "It would be unwise to do anything to potentially attract attention to our position. No, I believe we will do without."

I nodded, "Whatever you say." The three of us proceeded to unpack and unsaddle our mounts, the dim light of the moon and my mage light combined provided more than enough illumination.

A small camp began to unravel. Once the horses were fed, watered and rubbed down, the three of use settled down on our bedrolls. I snuffed the mage light out, leaving us in near darkness. My eyes adjusted, pulling in the little light there was and sharpening every edge and shadow around us. The horses appeared a purplish hue from the area around them, the twins laying in their bedrolls as blue. Nibbling on some jerky I had in my pack, I watched the two elf forms intently in the dark. "How long do ya think it'll take to get back to the Valley?"

Elladan's shadow barely moved as he answered, "Shouldn't be more than two to three weeks if we stay to the road."

"Now, if something were to divert us from that course, say an orc pack or the like, it could take near four." Elrohir added.

I prayed to Talos it wouldn't take that long. The Valley was a comforting thought. A warm fire and soft sheets, a deep mattress and the surrounding comfort of safe walls and kind people. Even if sleep didn't come, it was still a wonderful feeling to be cocooned in cotton and animal furs, the scent of pine and dirt still clinging longingly to the tanned skin.

A harsh wind blew leaves and needles across the ground, carrying the scent of cold and musk to my sensitive nose. There was nothing else I could smell on the breeze, which was a small comfort while being relatively open. A deer, perhaps, but nothing more. There was a slight…something hanging in the air, however.

A while passed by, uneventfully so. An hour maybe? Two? The moon had moved a tad bit across the sky, not quite full. Within the next week or so, her luminous face would shine a silver yellow, filling the night with a haunting glow. I really didn't want to dwell on it.

While the wolf didn't force me to change during a full moon, like many weak willed hosts were, she threw a fit if I didn't let her. After longs periods of time between changes, if a full moon arose, keeping her contained became increasingly difficult.

Áskell's wolf was always more complacent than mine, it was just the spirit he had received. Maybe it matched personalities? He was always laid back, forgiving, more loving. I would sooner punch a guy in the face and spend the night in jail then let a situation go.

The mood swings started soon after the Change. The bouts of aggression began happened every day, so did the drinking. Áskell was there to balance those moments out. Without him… I spiraled near out of control. A lute with cut strings. A ship without a rigging. The other Companions tried what they could, but he knew things about me I didn't. Losing him was like, and still is, losing a limb, or my sight or hearing. I was crawling through a nightmarish darkness, alone, vulnerable, where screams echoed with no end and the heart crushing pain never ceased.

Rolling over, I tucked my arms cloak around myself, the blanket shifting more to one side. I wasn't cold, my body gave off too much heat and the air wasn't chilled enough to feel. The shiver that ran down my spine was uncomfortable, my chest suddenly tightening.

"Áskell, I miss you." I whispered so softly that if the wisps of hair in my face hadn't fluttered, I would have doubted I had said it aloud. Contemplating just lying awake till morning, I decided against it, taking a bottle of whiskey from my bag as quietly as possible. Not wanting to tap into my dwindling reserve of Vilkas' mead, I had smuggled a few bottles of the strong drink from the Rivendell kitchens before departing. With Merry and Pippin's help, of course.

I uncorked the near empty bottle, downing the rest of its contents. The amber liquid burned the back of my tongue and throat, the vapor creeping into my nostrils, making my eyes smart slightly. After three large gulps, it was empty. I snorted to clear the feeling of the insides of my nose bubbling, a small burp escaping my gut. One of the elves shifted, the moon reflecting a little in his half opened eyes of elven-sleep.

Tucking the now empty bottle of whiskey back into my back, I tucked back into my bedroll. A slight warmth had crept up my neck to my cheeks, bringing a marginal calmness with it. While it was no-where near enough drink to get me tipsy, it was enough to feel warm, like a comforting hug.

The Wolf twisted round to get comfortable for the night, the whiskey calming her as well. _This is the closest we will get to "warm and fuzzy" for a long time._ I thought to her. She yawned in response, lips pulling back to flash great white teeth. A yawn escaped me before I could help it. _Goodnight then, I suppose._

My ears buzzed with sleep as I closed my eyes, grateful for a chance of decent sleep before dawn. The thoughts of the last hour, however, leached into my subconscious, awaiting me in my slumber. They had prepared to bring back a longing for a time seemingly from another age, from two totally different people, both dead in different ways.

* * *

 _Thank you so much for your patience! I have been working on this chapter since a month or two after the last update. I got to just after the council but knew I couldn't end it there, do for the next year and a half I just wrote like, three sentences every month or so because I would loose vision and motivation to write. Shout out to Catali7 for the amazing review they left me this past morning, it really gave me the last push I needed to finish this up. I have taken a lot of writing classes for my minor in creative write (a new development since the last time I was here I think) so I hope there is improvement. Thank you again, my wonderful readers, please review!_


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